Filius Mortis
by Diamond Pearls
Summary: Something went wrong with Harry's birth and now he'll have to deal with the consequences. After all, if you have a Dark Lord after your hide, an old fool trying to manipulate your life and two deities who have taken a liking to you, things are bound to happen. Raising the dead is only just the beginning. And let's not speak of his feelings for that Dark Lord. TMR/HP Slash!
1. Prologue

**Hey peeps!  
*Dodges tomatoes thrown at her head*  
Gah! I know! I know! I should update my other stories! And here I am, starting a new one. Gods I'm awful, aren't I?  
For my other stories, well... I'm not quite sure when I'll update those since I have a new computer and all my story files were on my old one..  
Anyways! I just decided to try out a new one while I sort out the others. So, for those readers, please be patient**

 **btw I'm not really sure as to in what type the letters will come as, really I still don't fully understand my new pc...**

 **Summary:** Something went wrong with Harry's birth and now he'll have to deal with the consequences. After all, if you have a Dark Lord after your hide, an old fool trying to manipulate your life and two deities who have taken a liking to you, things are bound to happen. Raising the dead is only just the beginning. And let's not speak of his feelings for that certain Dark Lord.

 **Pairing:** TMR/HP

 **Warnings:** Slash! Abuse, violence, cussing, manipulativeness, character death, Character bashing (*cough*Dumbledore*cough*), Necromancer!Harry, grey(?)!Harry, OC's (Not much and not very centric) probably more warnings in later chapters.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter I only own this story.

 **Beta:** un-beta'ed

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

Prologue

"Behind every beautiful thing, there is some kind of pain." ~ Bob Dylan

~§~ FiliusMortis~§~

Every day hundreds of thousands babies are brought into the world. Taking their first breath of air, letting it out in a wail as they cry 'I'm Alive!' for the entire world to hear. As they open their eyes to the bright colors of the world and leave the warm, protective womb in exchange for the cold, hard, outside world.

Being held by their mothers as they look upon their child for the first time.

But, for every life that is given, there are those that have been taken.

Every day thousands of people die. Taking their last breath of air, eyes glazing over as they stare out unseeingly at the world before them. Some dying of old age, having lived a fulfilled (or not so fulfilled) life. Others because their lives were taken, because of war, natural disasters, or even the occasional psycho.

For every little difference in these peoples deaths, they all had one thing in common; Fate has cut their strings as their souls were left in Deaths' cold grip.

~§~ FiliusMortis~§~

"Push, Lily! _Push!_ "

The groaning of a woman could be heard amongst the different sounds and noises of St Mungo's Hospital, her pretty face contorted in exertion as she followed the Healers orders.

James Potter sat beside his wife, wincing in pain when Lily squeezed the hand she held until breaking point. "You're doing great, Lils. Harry's on his way now."

Squeezing the hand of her husband Lily held in her hand even harder, Lily was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to just punch James on the nose. "Great? _Great?!_ I don't see _you_ laying here trying to give birth to a child! This is _your_ entire fault! I'll never let you touch me agai-AH!"

The medi-witch ignored the two soon to be parents and concentrated on her job. "Take a deep breath, Lily. Yes, that's it! Very good. You're almost there, I can see the head already!" As Cassandra could finally take a sturdy but gentle hold on the child's head, she ordered Lily to give one final push.

As the child, a boy by the looks of it, finally came out, an ominous feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, only growing as the ensuing silence continued on.

"H-how is he? How is my baby?" The tired voice of Lily Potter-Evans filled the tense silence. Cassandra rushed to grab her wand, casting a quick diagnostic-scan to see what was wrong with the child and find out _why_ the child wasn't _breathing_.

"What's wrong? Where is H-Hary?" Lily looked at her husband beside her, green eyes wide and looking lost. She didn't get an answer.

James didn't look much better than his wife at the moment, ashen in the face and not seeming to hear Lily as he gazed at the still child in their Healers arms.

Cassandra was casting spell after spell, but nothing-seemed-to-work! She was getting desperate, sending small amounts of electricity in the small chest to, hopefully, restart his heart.

" _James?!_ " The distressed call of Lily shocked James out of his stupor. "What's going on?" Looking at the wide, green eyes of his wife, James couldn't find the energy to say anything at the moment. So he slowly brought the red-head in his arms, rocking her softly and rubbing small circles on her back as broken sobs spilled passed the woman's lips. Burying his own face in Lily's mussed up hair, he let his own tears fall.

For the first time in his life James felt utter despair.

Cassandra, after a full minute of casting spell after spell on the unresponsive baby, has finally given up. Laying the child, _Harry_ , she corrected herself mentally, in a small cot which was placed in the hospital room in advance, she cast a quick tempus and wrote the time down.

"I'm very sorry," Cassandra said the two grieving parents.

Not one occupant in the room saw the ominous figure towering over the child's form.

Not like they could even if they wanted to.

Clad in a dark cloak which looked more like liquid shadow, the hood of the being, because that's what it can only be described as, bend down slightly. Looking at the child laying there, it slowly raised its hand. Bony fingers traced a small, pale cheek down a delicate jaw and up again.

" _ **Fate has great things in store for you, my child"**_ The being traced its fingers up a small forehead and slowly carded them through the small tuft of black hair at the top of the child's head.

" _ **Now,"**_ Long, cold, bony fingers settled on closed eyelids. _**"Wake up."**_

Bright, green eyes shot open, almost glowing as they looked up at the shadowy figure still standing over them. Cold fingers traced his cheek again as the Harry continued to stare up at the being, as if fascinated by it.

" _ **I will see you soon, my child."**_ The figure disappeared, not leaving any trace that it was ever there.

Small lips parted and _cried_.

~§~ FiliusMortis~§~

Harry James Potter is born on the 31st of July 1980 at 23:57 pm, and is declared dead one minute after.

Harry James Potter awoke on the 31st of July 1980 at 23:59 pm, and is declared alive.

~§~ FiliusMortis~§~

Nine-months-old Harry Potter sat surrounded by his toys in the living room. Almost bored. Any normal kid would be playing, crawling around the house and probably destroying a thing or two. But, Harry was by no means normal. He was a very quiet and silent child. Most often than not just staring at people, almost as if he observes them. Judges them.

Staring unblinkingly at the colorful blocks before him, Harry just sat there as if he was waiting for something to happen.

And it did.

Slowly, as if unsure, the blocks began to move. Gradually they began stacking onto each other, forming a giant cube in the end.

Harry finally blinked, turning towards the voice of his mother as she called him from the room next to the living room.

His father was at a meeting with the Order and his mother was at the moment busy in the kitchen, making dinner for her family.

It was a difficult time for the Potters. A war was going on in their world, and many lives were already lost on both sides.

Albus Dumbledore, the leader of the side the Potters were on, told them about a prophesy. One involving their son.

So the Potters went into hiding, just like the Longbottoms and their son Neville who also fit for the description in the prophesy.

It wasn't easy, of course it wasn't. They didn't expect hiding from an all-powerful Dark Lord would be. They moved from place to place, never staying in one location for too long. Never being able to settle down like a normal family.

Contact with the outside world was also very abysmal, only their closest friends knew where they stayed. Sirius Black, James' best and longest friend, visited them on a regular basis. Bringing news about the happenings in the wizarding world or just for a friendly visit.

But they'll just have to live with it, for now.

~§~ FiliusMortis~§~

Harry giggled as he stared at the small sparrow, who sang a small song for him. A perfectly normal sight, right? Well… It would've been if not for the small fact that the bird was _dead_. Probably been for a while now too, if the rotten smell and the maggots are anything to go by.

And that's the scene that Lily came by as she came to bring her son inside from the garden.

A shrill scream passed er lips as she stared wide-eyed at that..that.. _thing_ sitting before her son.

"Who?! What's wrong? Who do I have to- Oh merlin," James said, looking in horror at the small corpse of the bird that was trying to fly away from them, with only half a wing. "What _is_ that?!"

Lily rushed towards Harry, picking him up and holding onto him. "I don't care what it is! Just- Get rid of it, please! Who knows what would've happened to Harry if I hadn't come out the moment I did… Dear Merlin." She stared, horrified at the prospect of losing her only child, her _baby_ again _._

"Okay, okay. Just bring Harry inside. I'll take care of this.. _thing._ " He grabbed his wand and pointed it towards the half-dead bird. "Incendio!" The sparrow went up in flames, leaving a burning and rotting smell in the air.

That was the first time Harry resurrected a dead animal.

~§~ FiliusMortis~§~

It's been a few months since the bird incident and James and Lily have mostly forgotten about it, thinking it was just a one-time occurrence.

Oh, how wrong they were.

Harry's first birthday was just a few days earlier. It was a quiet affair, the only guests who could come were Sirius, Remus, Peter and Dumbledore.

But it made no real difference to Harry.

It was 8 pm and his mother was just starting to put him to bed, when a grasshopper scurried from under the bed, hopping past Lily's feet. Jumping at the sudden movement at her feet, she did the first thing that came to mind. She put her foot down on the insect. Hard. A scrunching noise filled the air. "Oh this is so gross." lifting up her feet, she looked down at the flattened insect making a spot on her carpet, feeling a sudden sense of nausea coming up.

Harry watched as his mother wiped off her foot on a towel, muttering and shivering in disgust all the while. Green eyes sliding across the room, his gaze settled back on the flattened cockroach.

A second later the bugs antenna began to twitch, its legs moving from side to side, looking for a good grip on the ground. Just as Lily turned back around, the grasshopper jumped back up and began to scurry away.

"Dear Merlin," grabbing her wand, Lily began casting spell after spell in the hopes of finally killing the little bugger for good. But each and every time, the grasshopper jumped back up, seeming unfazed by the magic cast on it.

~§~ FiliusMortis~§~

"James!"

Said man looked up from his work desk where papers laid sprawled over its surface. Frowning, he looked up at the ceiling thinking he may finally be hearing things. After a couple of seconds have passed where it was silent went he back to his work, shrugging his shoulders.

" _James!_ "

Now James was certain it wasn't his imagination playing a trick on him. climbing the stairs to where the sound of his wife yelling his name came from. Opening the door to Harry's bedroom, his mouth opened to ask what was wrong when he stopped dead in his tracks. Taking in the sight before him with his mouth hanging agape.

The room was almost entirely destroyed.

Scorch marks were everywhere, on the floor, walls and even one on the ceiling. Toys were destroyed, stuffed animals were beheaded, stuffing laying around them looking like some sort of gruesome murder scene.

His first thought to this was that Death Eaters had found their way inside, but when his eyes caught sight of Lily, looking for the world a mess, and Harry, who was giggling from his bed (which looked to be the only place undamaged) bright, green eyes fixed on something on the ground. Did James know that this wasn't the work of Death Eaters or any of You-Know-Who's followers.

This was the work of his lovely wife, Lily. Sweet, lovable Lily. Who now looked like she went through a hurricane. Her hair was mussed up, long plucks of hair falling in her eyes as she stood, panting, in the middle of the room. Her clothes were rumpled and had scorch marks on it. She was even missing a sock! Her wand was in her hand, aiming it on something in the corner of the room.

They locked eyes, Lily looked expectant, James just stared.

Green eyes rolled in exasperation at the dumbfounded look on her husbands face. "Well?"

James just gave her a confused look, raising one dark eyebrow. "Well, what?"

Lily huffed in exasperation, feeling her patience leave with every second James looked at her like that. "Well, are you going to do something about it?"

James, feeling the dangerous vibes coming off of his wife, cautiously, so as to not aggravate her further and make her spit her ire at him, began to speak. "About what, honey?" He didn't do anything wrong, right?

"That bloody grasshopper! That's what!"

It didn't work.

"I'm so-uhm.. What?" he probably didn't hear that right, _right_?

Lily waved her wand a little, which she had still pointed towards the corner. "That grasshopper, James!" and indeed, in that same corner sat an average sized grasshopper, in all its green, grasshoppery glory. "It just won't _die_ , James!"

James turned his gaze back to Lily, his eyebrow disappearing somewhere in his hairline.

Lily frowned back at him, crossing her arms under her chest. "Don't look at me like that! I'm serious, James!" she huffed, feeling slightly offended. "I've tried everything! I squished it, incinerated it, hell! I've beheaded it about five times! _Five,_ James!"

James swallowed audibly. When Lily starts cussing, then she's beyond reasonable. And no one will be safe.

"Uhhuh, immortal grasshopper, right." James scratched the back of his head looking at the offending insect which hadn't moved once from it's place in the corner of the room. "Are you sure you didn't just miss it?"

Lily's face became almost as red as her hair, James swore he saw a vein throbbing in her forehead.

Harry watched his parents with interest, looking at them with large, innocent eyes. "Momma?"

Lily's own green eyes snapped towards her son, though many say they have the same eyes, Harry's were actually of a more brighter green, almost otherworldly. Once she saw her son, looking at her with those big, green eyes did she finally start to calm down, her gaze softening and smiling softly at him.

"Come Harry," she grabbed her one year old son and walked towards the door. "Let's leave your father to it then. After all, he knows it better, _right_?" Lily slammed the door close, leaving James alone in the room together with the grasshopper.

James just stared at the door, blinking owlishly. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm sleeping on the couch tonight?" he turned his head towards the insect, looking at it as if it was about to start talking back to him. It only twitched its antenna.

James frowned, rubbing the bridge of his nose under his glasses, knocking them askew in the meantime. "Right, talking to an insect. I must be going bloody insane." He muttered, sighing loudly through his nose.

"Well then," he said loudly, grabbing his wand from his trousers pocket. "Let's get to it, shall we?"

Pointing his wand at the insect, James waited for it to do something.

The grasshopper rubbed its back paws together, looking for the world content to be just sitting there.

A bright, colorful light filled the room.

Lily and Harry in the meantime were in Lily's and James' bedroom, the redhead grabbing a small white-blue story book, the title reading; The Tales of Beedle the Bard. She opened her mouth as she was about to start reading, Harry looking at her with bright eyes.

"Lily!" James' voice interrupted her, sounding slightly distressed. Lily just waited, not planning to answer her husband.

"Lily!" This time it came louder than the one before, a panicked undertone in the call.

Harry looked at his mother with questioning eyes, Lily just smiled softly at him.

"Lily! The grasshopper won't bloody _die_! Oh _Merlin_! It jumped on me! _Lily!_ "

Harry giggled and Lily just smiled, holding her son.

"The Wizard and the Hopping Pot…"

Harry slowly dozed off to the soft voice and warm embrace of his mother as the yells and racket his father was making filled the house until late in the evening.

~§~ FiliusMortis~§~

It's Saturday, the 31st of October and Harry is now fifteen months old. Of course many also know this day by different names; Samhain, All Saints Eve and All Hallows Eve or, better known as: Halloween.

Many people celebrate Halloween, some for the end of the harvesting season and others for the candy and parties. Some people believe that on Halloween the Spirit World and the world of the living are closer to each other than on any other day, so that, if you know how to, you can contact the dead.

The Potter family had finally settled down in a Muggle village, Godric's Hollow. They won't need to constantly switch from safe-house to safe-house, finally living like a normal family would.

After much speculating, and nagging at Dumbledore, did they finally come to the perfect solution.

The Fidelius Charm.

A very complex spell where a secret will be concealed in a humans soul.

At first they wanted Sirius to be the Secret Keeper, but Sirius convinced them that that would be too obvious. So, eventually they decided that Sirius would be a diversion, distracting the enemies attention from the real Secret Keeper towards himself. It was a good plan, if only they just didn't pick the wrong person.

But they did.

The real Secret Keeper, Peter Pettigrew, betrayed the Potters the moment the location was locked within him. Running towards his Master and spilling the news as he subserviently bows at feet.

Oh, they knew there was a spy amongst them, but they assumed, and accused wrong. Laying there trust on the incorrect person.

But it matters not, what's done was done and they can do very little to change it.

If only they were warned of the dangers ahead, would it've gone very differently.

"Lily! Take Harry and _run_!" James yelled from across the room, gripping his wand tightly as the front door was blown open.

Lily scrambled up the stairs towards Harry's room, ignoring the bright green light and the fact that her husband is _gone_.

Running in her child's room and locking the door behind her, she cursed the fact she forgot to take her wand with her.

Harry was awake, holding the railing as he stood in his bed. He kept quiet, as if he knew what was going on.

Lily picked up her son, setting him before her as she knelt on the ground, shielding him from the door. The could hear the steps creaking as the Dark Lord slowly came up the stairs, taking his time as if he knew that he'd won already. Which he pretty much had, they were unarmed, totally defenseless. The only thing Lily could still do was stand between the murderer of her husband and her son.

And that was what she is going to do.

"Harry," She whispered, green eyes glistening with unshed tears she refused to let fall. Not now, she couldn't break down now. "Harry, dear." Bright green eyes locked with green, his eyes which were so much more prettier than her own. She has always thought that. But, they sometimes frightened her. Like he could see through your very soul, judging how you've lived your life and eventually decide how you'll rest.

"Mommy loves you, alright? no matter what, I'll always be with you. Don't forget that, Harry. I-I love you, just as Daddy loved you-"

The door burst open, wood splinters flying everywhere.

 _Such otherworldly green_ …

"Stand aside, I only want your son." A whispery voice said, wand pointed at the redheads chest.

"No! not Harry! take me instead!" Lily begged, spreading her arms out so as to shield Harry even more from the madman before her.

"Stand aside, silly girl!" Voldemort growled, patience wearing thin.

"No, take me! Leave Harry alone!" Lily was steadfast as she looked into those cold, red eyes.

"This is your last chance to stand aside, girl."

"No!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

 _Such beautiful eyes,_

A lone tear streaked down her cheek as a bright green light filled her vision.

 _A green as no other…_

She turned her head slightly, smiling softly at her son who was watching her quietly.

She slumped on the ground as the spell hit her, her eyes never once leaving Harry as she lay, unmoving.

Voldemort grinned manically as he pointed his wand at the child's head. Bright green eyes looked up from his still mother towards the Dark Wizard standing before him.

Voldemort wavered slightly, blinking as those eyes landed on him. He shook his head, sneering down at the child. "So, you are the one destined to kill me?" he mocked, Harry remained silent. "Say hello to your parents for me."

A blood-thirsty grin formed on pale lips.

"Avada Kedavra-!"

 _Green, the color of Death._

~§~ FiliusMortis~§~


	2. Chapter 1

**HOOMAHGAWD So many people who already like this story, and it was only the prologue!  
You guys are absolutely _awesome_ ~! I never thought that this story would interest so many people. I was pleasantly surprised when I saw the total; 63 Follows and 32 Favs.  
**

 **A special thanks to all the people who took their time to post a review!  
**

 **But, I still think it's a bit little in comparison to the people who all followed this story :$  
The more Reviews I get, the more likely it is that I'll try to update it sooner!  
And helpful criticism is always appreciated, even if it is only to point out that one word is misspelled.  
** **  
And Lisa; I've updated! ^w^** **  
**

 **Summary:** Something went wrong with Harry's birth and now he'll have to deal with the consequences. After all, if you have a Dark Lord after your hide, an old fool trying to manipulate your life and two deities who have taken a liking to you, things are bound to happen. Raising the dead is only just the beginning. And let's not speak of his feelings for that certain Dark Lord.

 **Pairing:** TMR/HP

 **Warnings:** Slash! (Mention of) Abuse/neglect, violence, cussing, manipulativeness, character death, Character bashing (*cough*Dumbledore*cough*), Necromancer! Harry, Smart!Harry, Grey(?)Harry, OC's (Not much and not very centric) there are probably more warnings in later chapters.

The story will start very slowly, It will probably take a few chapters (hopefully not a lot) before he will attend Hogwarts, so imagine how long it will take before the relationship between Tom and Harry will even start. But please bear with it, hopefully it is worth it.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, sadly. I only own this story.

 **Beta:** un-beta'ed

~§~

 **Previously:**

 _"I'm very sorry,"_

..

 _ **"Fate has great things in store for you, my child…"**_

..

 _"James!"_

..

 _"No matter what, I'll always be with you."_

..

 _"I-I love you, Harry."_

..

 _"Avada Kadavra-!"_

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

Chapter 1

"One dark night the skeletons that they had carefully hidden in an obscure closet appeared, grabbed them around the throat, and strangled them." ~ Ben Carson

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

The sun rose in the sky, painting the tidy and monotonous streets of Little Whinging a warm orange colour. Birds were chirping, acting as a wake-up call for the slumbering citizens who were slowly rising up as the day came to a start. A mailman walked down the street, going from door to door to bring the people their morning papers as usual.

It was a quiet and normal morning for the residents of Privet Drive.

The Dursleys, occupants of number four, prided themselves for being a perfectly normal family, thank you very much. Vernon Dursley, the head of the house, was a pink-skinned (which could turn into various different shades of purple (especially in the face) when provoked enough), black-haired, rotund man in his mid-thirties with small, blue eyes and a bushy moustache situated above his lips. He worked as a director at an ordinary drill-company.

Mr. Dursley very much liked being normal, and anything even considered out of the ordinary was not tolerated by the temperamental man.

Petunia Dursley was much like her husband in anything but appearance. For where Vernon was big and beefy, was she very thin with pale eyes and blond hair always kept neat and tidy. You could often see her peeking at her neighbours, her long neck stretched out as she watched over the fence separating their garden, spying for gossip.

Then there is their son, Dudley, who recently turned five on June the twenty-third and will start primary school soon. In just a couple of days to be exact. He was a spoiled brat who was a little _heavy_ for his age. Dudley was already very demanding, crying and (more often than not) throwing a tantrum if he didn't get what he wanted. It more often than not worked.

A perfectly normal family, don't you think? Nothing weird or anything out of the norm about this small family. They just lived their lives, day in, day out. Never once doing anything considered bad.

Except, every family has its skeletons hidden in their closets. No matter how perfect they are or try to be, there will always be imperfections. Family secrets. Dark desires. Or even embarrassing moments in their lives which they wouldn't want anyone to find out about. There are _always_ skeletons, some more so than others. They lock it away and throw away the key, hoping beyond hope that no one will ever find out. So, they live their life contentedly, never once sparing a look back at the locked door hidden in the dark corners of their home.

But really, what were they expecting? It's only natural that it will, at some point, come back to bite you in the arse. Most of the time making things worse than they already were. It will follow your waking days and haunt you in your dreams.

And try as you might, you'll never be rid of it.

It won't let you.

And the Dursleys, well, they took it to a more _literal_ sense. Because hidden behind a heavily locked door, in a dark and small cupboard located under the stairs, did they try to hide their secret from the rest of the world.

A small boy, of five years, sat on his small matrass which was cramped in the small space, a thin and worn blanket wrapped tightly around his small and malnourished body. He shivered as a cold draft of wind blew in from under the door, the blanket not really helping in keeping him warm.

He was their skeleton.

Brilliant green eyes glowed in the darkness, glaring at the door keeping him trapped in that small space.

~§~

" _Boy_! Wake up!" Petunia's shrill voice reverberated through the hall as she knocked loudly and incessantly on the door. Harry blinked his eyes open and arched his back off the matrass as a jaw-breaking yawn spilled from his mouth. "Get up! You've got five minutes to use the bathroom, not a second longer!" The banging stopped as the sound of a lock clicking out of its place filled the air instead. Petunia left after giving one final loud bang on the door which shook slightly thereafter, knowing that her 'lazy' nephew would be up the stairs in less than a minute.

Harry slowly stood up from his sitting position, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he groped blindly behind him with his other hand at the plank which hung on the wall, improvising as a closet for the few shirts, pants and underwear Harry had in his possession, which lay on small, neat stacks on top of it. He grabbed his crooked glasses and put them on. All of the clothes he owned were much too big for Harry's slim and lithe figure. Hand-me-downs from his older cousin who outgrew them.

 _"It's a waste to throw them away,"_ Petunia had sneered down at him, shoving the clothes she held in Harry's arms. _"But you better be grateful that we even waste these fine clothes on the likes of you."_

Harry had just stared blankly at her.

It was pretty sad that he considered a closet his room, but Harry is used to the unfair treatment of his 'family' towards him. His uncle and aunt hated him and he could say the feeling was pretty much mutual. They didn't want him living with them and he didn't want to live with them. But, sadly, they were stuck with each other. After all, they were the, supposedly, only living family he had. So he didn't have much choice, or so he was told by his uncle.

'Another day of doing cooking, cleaning and gardening in this oh-so-fine household.' Harry thought bitterly as he turned on the hot and cold water tabs of the shower and quickly washed himself. 'Though, I suppose gardening isn't so bad. At least I get to spent part of the day outside and partly away from Dudley's taunting.'

After a few minutes Harry was done with the task of cleaning himself and used the time he had left to drink some water from the faucet and relieving his bladder. As the five minutes were up, did he finally go down stairs, heading straight towards the kitchen where he knew he would have to help his aunt making breakfast for the others. Not even starting to hope that he would get some.

The smell of baked bacon and freshly made toast wafted in the air, making Harry salivate slightly. Oh, what he wouldn't give to get some food. Sadly, his uncle chose that moment to walk into the kitchen, laying the newspaper out on the table in front of him as he barked at the freak to bring him some coffee.

Harry grabbed a mug without a word, knowing by now not to argue with the fat walrus. It would only result in his uncle mad for days and himself with a few more bruises and cuts to add to his collection while being locked away in his cupboard without any food.

Not like a locked door could really hold him back though.

You see, strange things happened around Harry. Unexplainable things which, for all things considered, shouldn't be possible. From growing his hair back after his aunt Petunia cut it short, accelerated healing, making things float in the air, 'till bringing back the dead. Granted it was only small animals he is able to resurrect at the moment, and they looked more dead than alive most of the time, but still. (He did love pulling pranks on his family with those though. The squeals coming from their mouths was absolutely hilarious!)

In the books he was able to read when his aunt went to the local library and she couldn't leave him at the house and miss Figg's wasn't able to watch after him, was he allowed to come with her. Petunia didn't want to leave her nephew at the house, as she wouldn't be able to know what he did in the time she was gone (not like he would break or steal anything, really. He wasn't that stupid as to try something like that, the repercussions for such actions just weren't worth it. Especially if his uncle found out.)

Most of the time he would be able to sneak off when his aunt was scanning the aisles for the crappy romance novels she liked to read. He would wander further into the library, where the advanced books (for his age at least) were located. He would grab a few books that either caught his interest or he wasn't finished with yet and would bring them over to a small table at the very back of the library where no one else came by. Reading in silence as all the sound from further away would be muffled by the many bookcases towering over-head.

He liked his table very much. And no-one would be able to steal it from him. He had dubbed it his table after all.

Harry would sit there for hours on end, reading page after page, book after book, a large dictionary laying open beside him if he didn't understand certain words. Drinking in all the knowledge he could get his small hand on.

He had learned a lot in the few times he was able to come by the library, sometimes even managing to get Miss Figg's as far as to bring him there. Harry only had to blink up at her with his wide, green eyes and let his pouting lips quiver a little to make her nothing more than a puddle of goo and make her do as he wished. That was probably the only upside of being a small child, he thought.

And that's also where he learned that the things he did on a, mostly, daily basis, were simply not possible. Or so the many science tomes say. Of course there is also the child-side of the library where many child-stories and fantasy-books were situated. Harry had read a few of those fairy-tales, simply because he was curious, and found something very peculiar in one of them.

Magic.

And all because of the heroic tale of king Arthur and the wizard Merlin, did Harry have an epiphany.

It all made sense now. Why he wasn't allowed to utter the m-word in the Dursley house-hold. How those things happened around him and what the cause of it was.

It also explained why his uncle and aunt always seemed to look at him in fear before their faces contorted in anger when something happened. They knew he could harm them if he so much as wished to. They knew he had magic at his disposal, while they were ordinary, boring people. Mundane.

And they knew. They knew. And hadn't told him anything.

Oh, he was angry. His dislike for his supposed family growing to new heights he didn't know previously existed. But he let it simmer to a low hiss, not striking yet but laying the trap nevertheless. He would get revenge on these strangers, Harry vowed to himself, even if it took him years to accomplish.

But what he still didn't understand was how he came to have magic. Was he chosen by some sort of upper being, and gained the gift? Did his parents have magic? Were there others out there like him? Could he, so long as he set his mind to it, accomplish the impossible? Well, technically he was already breaking the laws of nature by rising dead animals and insects or letting things fly.

'I wonder if I could make myself fly…' Harry thought as he poured the coffee in a cup adding a bit of milk to it.

Harry walked towards the small dinner table where his uncle was seated at. 'Or maybe I could make a certain whale hang upside down the ceiling,' He sniggered slightly. 'That would be a sight to see. Imagine all the colours his face would turn!'

Harry's lips twitched at the thought, setting the steaming cup of coffee down. His uncle eyed him suspiciously over the pages of the Daily Mail. Harry adopted an innocent look as he gave a small smile to his uncle. Vernon's eyes narrowed into beady slits, before he grunted and waved him away with his hand, ignoring Harry in favour of reading today's paper.

After Harry made breakfast for his family and Dudley tried to sabotage him at least once and made himself a meagre breakfast consisting of some bread with a single slice of cheese. He excused himself and made his way to his cupboard. It's September 1st, Harry's first day of primary school.

He wasn't overly excited about it, because he probably was far ahead of his peers.

Harry thought he had a kind of photographic memory. He only had to read a page once and remember in vivid detail, word for word, what stood on the page. He assumed it was because of his magic. That's how he had learned himself to read.

But overall, it couldn't be too bad going to primary. At least he would be away from Privet Drive for a little while, sadly not away from Dudley. Maybe he could even make some friends? Well, human ones at least. He's friends with a small garden snake who lives in the backyard. He can talk to snakes, not the weirdest thing that has happened to him though.

Harry quickly ate his breakfast and grabbed his coat from inside the closet.

It may be September, but the weather was cool and ominous clouds hung overhead, spelling rain for today.

" _MUUUM!_ Where is my lunch!" Dudley screamed from the living room. Petunia hurried from the kitchen, a bright-coloured lunchbox in her hands.

"Here you go Pumpkin."

The next thing Harry knew he was horded outside the door and into the car, on his way to school.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

The children were restless. Noises filled the classroom as built-up tension and nerves let themselves known in the children who were all attending school for the first-time, meeting new people and no parents in sight.

Dudley already met up with some of his friends and acted as if he owned the place. Going around, boasting to the other children as his 'gang' of friends trailed after him with looks of slight awe on their faces.

The teacher, Mrs. Wright, was trying her best to get the excitable children to calm down. She wasn't fairing well.

Harry stood quietly in the corner of the room, not really wanting to join the others in the yelling game they seem to be playing. Bright green eyes surveyed the room, as he shifted from foot to foot in nervousness. Harry wasn't used to these sort of situations. He didn't know what he had to do or how he had to behave. The only interactions he had with other children was with Dudley and occasionally his friends when they came over.

He was so out of his depth that he didn't see his cousin coming over, and when he did it was already too late to get away from any sort of trouble Dudley was sure to bring with him.

"What you doing, freak? Standing there all by your freakish self." Dudley taunted as his friends laughed with him, which wasn't very intimidating as they were more like giggles.

Harry didn't answer, just glared at his pig-headed cousin. Wishing Dudley would just _leave him alone already_.

But alas, fate was against him it seemed.

Dudley opened his mouth again to, presumably, insult him further when the teacher finally got fed up and loudly proclaimed for everyone to sit on the ground in a circle.

Harry quickly slipped past the others and proceeded to sit on a random spot on the ground. Waiting patiently for the teacher to speak up again as the other children scrambled for a place on the ground, all looking up at the teacher who proceeded to seat herself on the floor between two students.

She clapped her hands, smiling slightly as she glanced around at the group. "Good morning, everyone!" a chorus of good morning's followed and she smiled a little wider. "My name is Mrs Wright, and I'll be your teacher for this year. Now, let's start with introducing ourselves."

It went on like that for a while. Children telling their names and their likes and dislikes. Eventually it was Harry's turn, and no-one had expected such answers from a five-year-old child.

"My name is Harry Potter, I turned five on the thirty-first of July. I like snakes, reading, learning new things, defying the laws of nature, magic," he thought for a bit, a speculative look on his face. "..And Death, I think.." The teacher blanched a little at that, looking absolutely appalled. "My dislikes are my 'family'," he air-quoted the word with his fingers, a small scowl flitting across his face which he couldn't seem to hold back. "normalness and bullies."

The class was quiet for a while, most not really knowing what to think while others thought he was just strange.

" _Freak!_ " Dudley's voice reverberated loudly through the still air and Harry flinched slightly as the silence was broken and more voices followed. Some whispering quietly amongst themselves while others loudly proclaimed their dislike.

Shaken from her stupor, the teacher quickly called back the order of things. As everyone quieted once again did she reluctantly continue with her lesson, sometimes glancing at the strange boy sitting quietly to the side.

All the while Harry was keeping his face rid of emotion and his eyes trained forward on a spot on the wall only he could see. Small hands were balled up in the pockets of his too wide pants, his grip so tight that his knuckles were turning white.

He knew he wouldn't make any friends. If it wasn't because off Dudley, it was because he had weird hobbies. Really, he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. What did he expect? He wasn't normal like them. He wasn't mundane, he was a _wizard_ for Christ's sake! A real magic user! Just like the great Merlin. Though the difference between him and Merlin would be that the wise, old wizard had a staff to use his magic with. Would he need a staff, also? Could he make one for himself? Or did he have to go on some ridiculous quest where he had to defeat mountain trolls and dragons to earn one? Did dragons and trolls even _exist_?

So many questions were running through his head with so little answers to sate them.

The teacher continued to explain what they would be doing for the day. The were assigned to make a drawing or a painting (your own choice) and make something you like.

Children rushed away, chatting excitedly to each other. As they grabbed papers, pencils and crayons. The ones who wanted to paint had to wear aprons so they wouldn't mess any of it on their clothes (even if you could wash it out later with some soap.)

Harry went for the paint, because he would be able to sit by himself if he did. He wasn't about to try and make friends anymore, it was pointless anyway.

He quickly gathered the stuff needed and settled at one of the small easels situated in the back of the room and set to work with the paint. He'd never done anything like this before, so he was pretty excited to be able to do it.

~§~

Julie Wright was a sweet and kind woman. She loved working with children and helping them in their growth, educational-wise or other. She was happily married with the love of her life, an office worker she knew from her school years. A child-hood sweat-heart so to say. She had a good income, a nice house and is planning on starting her own family soon. Everything was perfect in her life, she was a healthy and happy young woman with lots of friends and an amazing job.

Everything was perfectly normal.

Until one Harry James Potter was placed in her class.

Julie didn't really know what to think of the small, bespectacled ravenette sitting quietly at the back of the class, secluded from the rest of the children, painting away on the canvas. In the few years she had taught before a class, had she never met a darker child. No, scratch that. In all her life had she met such a kid. It just wasn't normal. No child should have such thoughts. Snakes? Magic? Death?! What the bloody hell was that about? And he dislikes his family? Where were his parents for that matter? She didn't see anyone bringing him inside or saying goodbye to him, now that she thought about it. Were his parents busy? Or was he perhaps an orphan?

Thoughts and questions circulated around her head as she walked around the groups of children inspecting their work and complimenting them accordingly.

Most work were just scrabbles of random things; others were just splashes of colour on paper. Some works were actually good for a child of only five years' old. At least tit resembled what they were trying to show.

She was slowly making her way to the back to the room as the children were absorbed in their work. Eventually she came to Harry, walking up behind him and seeing what he had made so far. She could honestly say that what she saw, wasn't what she expected, at all.

Her jaw dropped as her brown eyes grew wide with shock and awe.

The painting was fairly simple; A red-headed woman stood in the middle of the painting. A bright green glow surrounding her as she was smiling sadly but serenely from the painting, tears staining her beautiful face. It was a sad sight, even with the bright colours surrounding her.

Julie was totally gobsmacked. The detail of the woman in the painting was so real! But the woman still seemed to be slightly faded, as if she was from a mere memory or even a dream.

Her hands were shaking as she brought them to her mouth as tears filled her own eyes. She just couldn't help it; it was so beautiful. She looked down at the silent child who hadn't looked up at her even once.

"Harry…" the name was breathed out, full of awe and silent admiration. This child has a gift. This five-year-old boy was painting like he had done it for a lifetime. Strokes sure, without any hesitance as he put his brush onto the once whit canvas and knew where to put each line.

Eventually he put his brush down, the painting finished, and turned to his teacher. He was slightly nervous as he saw his teachers face. He didn't do anything wrong, right? He hadn't meant to! He turned his head away, silently glaring at the painting. He just knew it was its fault!

"Harry," his teachers voice shook him from his thoughts as he turned back to her again. Harry just blinked at her. "Do you paint often, Harry?"

Feeling nervous again he shook his head almost hesitantly, hoping he didn't get the answer wrong. "No ma'am, this is the first time I've ever done anything like this."

Her mouth opened a couple of times, speechless. Harry thought she resembled a fish in that moment.

Eventually she snapped her jaws together with a loud clack! And a thoughtful frown took over her youthful face. Harry found it didn't really suit her. "Harry, I would like to test you on some things, if you wouldn't mind." Harry blinked at her, bright green eyes looking confused.

"Did I do something wrong?" Oh boy, uncle Vernon won't be happy when he heard about this. He's in so much trouble. "No! no, Harry. You're not in any kind of trouble. It's just… You said you liked to read and learn, right Harry?" After getting an affirmative nod, she continued. "What do you like to read Harry?"

He visibly brightened at the question, his eyes gaining a sparkle which made them even more beautiful than they already were. He talked excitedly about the books he had read from the library, making grant movements with his arms and hands as if he was trying to show with his gestures just how much he liked it.

She found that he finally looked and acted like a child his age should, excitable and a bright ball of energy. But as she focused on what he was saying, again she was struck speechless.

The books he was talking about were far ahead of his age. Like, college level ahead. How is that even possible?! He was only five, it was simply impossible. But alas, here he was reciting a book he had read about Ancient Greek he was learning himself. And much more.

This child wasn't supposed to be here, in first grade primary school.

She definitely had to discuss this with the other teachers, preferably today, and see to it that they will test his IQ.

If she didn't know better she would say he was some sort of miracle-kid.

This was definitely going to be a long day.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter two and wow... just wow. The amount of people following and favoriting this is absolutely _astounding_! Thank you all! I absolutely _never_ expected this.  
I hope I won't disappoint in this. **

**Maybe some of you noticed a bit of a pattern forming in the amount of updates I make on this? No? Well, I try to update at least once a month. I know it's not a lot, but there are a couple of reasons behind this:**

1\. I'm in college now, and the amount of work and projects I have to make is _a lot_.  
2\. I've rewritten certain parts in this chapter about _four times_. It just didn't really feel good, I guess. So I changed things a lot, especially in the beginning.  
3\. I've got a job, that takes up most of my time in the weekends.  
4\. I don't have a lot of spare time, and if I do I also want a little rest after a busy day of school.

 **But, I have to travel about three hours with the train a day five days in the week, and that's when I mostly write. So don't worry, it's getting done, little by little.**

 **A special thanks to my reviewers!**

 **HaruRiddle, Of Stories Told, , Katlovesboyxboy, Guests, The Yoshinator, o0violetphoenix0o, Fae0306, davycrockett100, zombieReaping66, dogsby, geetac.**

 **I always love to read about what you think and your ideas and views on it. So Click the button at the bottom of the chapter and leave a message!** （っ＾▿＾）

 **Disclaimer:** I most certainly don't own Harry Potter. Would I be writing on here if I did? I only own this story.

 **Warnings:** Violence ahead! Child-abuse! OC's other warnings later.

 **Beta:** Un-beta'ed

 **Previously:**

 _"My name is Harry Potter, I like snakes, reading, magic... and Death, I think.."_

..

 _"Freak!"_

..

 _"I would like to test you on some things, if you wouldn't mind."_

 _.._

 _"Did I do something wrong?"_

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

Chapter 2

"There is no great genius without some touch of madness." ~Aristotle

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

"Class this is Harry Potter; he will be staying here for a while." The teacher told the class monotonously as he held a small white paper in his hand where the name 'Harry Potter' stood in small, scrabbly writing. The man looked to be in his late-forties/ early-fifties with greying hair and a stern frown etched permanently into his face, making the wrinkles around his eyes, nose and lips even more pronounced then they already were.

The students were just staring at their new classmate, some even gaping.

"Is this a _joke_?!" a guy shouted from the back of the classroom, a chorus of _Yeah!_ following shortly after. People were shouting through each other, some in outrage while others in confusion. The entire classroom was silenced by a heavy book hitting a desk with a loud _THUMP!_

"SILENCE!" the teacher yelled as he shot a murderous frown at the class, daring anyone to say something. They all luckily (for them) held their mouths shut and opted for glaring at the person standing next to the teacher. "Mr. Potter here will be staying in this class for an indefinite amount of time and you will _all_ ," here he looked pointedly at a couple of students who had voiced their dismay the loudest. "learn to deal with it, I don't want to hear any more from you!"

Some students grumbled under their breaths, one suspiciously sounding like a ' _yeah right._ ' He received a warning look from the teacher for his efforts.

Harry, in the time this was all happening, just stood silently next to the teacher as spiteful-words and hate-filled looks were thrown his way from his new 'classmates'. He didn't mind, really. He was used to this sort of treatment for the past few years, and it's not like he would be staying here for long anyway. He gave it a month, give or take a week, before he got upped another year because he surpassed the years' curriculum.

It's been like this ever since his first day in preschool. Only three days later they had all the tests ready and made him take it. As soon as they examined everything and double checked it to _make sure that this was real and not some sort of weird dream_ , did they found out he was a few years ahead of all the other children. After a week of debating and some people coming by from child-service to have a talk with him, his teachers and his (unwilling) relatives, did they come to an agreement. He would be skipping a few years so that he wouldn't be held back by his peers.

Harry had been ecstatic of the news.

His relatives not so much.

The entire car ride back was filled with a tense silence. His aunt hadn't said a word, sitting ramrod straight in her seat and only looking forward. His uncle was gripping the steering wheel so tightly Harry was surprised he hadn't ripped it off yet, as His uncle's face was slowly starting to turn an ugly purple colour. Once they arrived back at Privet Drive did his uncle finally snap. As soon as they got inside, before the door was even closed, grabbed Vernon him by the collar, hoisting his small body up in the air as he was constricting Harry's airway.

He was slammed in the wall behind him, his head hitting the wall. His vision was spinning, the room one entire blur of colour and it hurt to breath as his throat was squeezed tightly. Harry started to claw at his uncle's meaty hands, his nails drawing blood. But it only seemed to annoy his uncle more, if the tightening of his hold was any indication. Harry started to kick his legs uselessly, only hitting air and the wall behind him. The lack of oxygen started to get to him, the edges of his vision darkening as his body wanted to slip into blissful unconsciousness. His mind had other plans, the constant pounding in his head keeping him awake. It felt like a pair of elephants were stampeding around behind his eyes.

He was at his uncle's mercy, and the man seemed to know it.

"Using those freakish powers of yours again, boy?" Spittle flew from his uncles' mouth on his face, Harry had to supress the urge to grimace. Lest he angers his uncle even more. "I'll show you what happens when you do."

Vernon threw him to the ground, what little air he had in his lungs leaving him in a painful huff. He lay, gasping for breath as he struggled to sit up. His uncle wouldn't let him. Harry let out a sharp hiss as he was painfully grabbed by his hair, chunks of it ripping out of his head. Tears sprung in his eyes as he desperately tried to get away from his uncle.

Petunia was just standing in the doorway between the hall and the living room, her arms wrapped around her skinny frame as she watched her nephew get beaten by her husband, her eyes set in a steely glare. Harry knew she wouldn't lift a finger to help him, and he cursed her to the deepest pits of hell for it, hoping she would rot there together with her husband and son.

Speaking of Dudley, luckily he wasn't anywhere in the house right now. Staying with one of his friends for the moment. Harry could count himself lucky for that. Even if it is a small compensation, at least, metaphorically speaking, his cousin wouldn't be able to rub salt in his open wounds.

Harry was dragged over the floor, kicking and screaming all the while. "Vernon!" Petunia hissed sharply, looking around nervously. Harry felt a small spark of hope rising in his chest, looking wide-eyed at his aunt. Maybe, just maybe he will be able to get away with only a concussion tonight. Maybe his aunt will help him this one time.

"The neighbours!" And just like that the small spark in his chest died down, leaving behind nothing more than a gaping hole. Harry fell limp in his uncle's grip, hair shadowing over his eyes as a blank look took over his features.

 _Of course Petunia would only be concerned about their reputation in the neighbourhood. Never mind a five-year-old child being beaten to death._ Harry thought spitefully, feeling something well up inside him. _No one will help me._ His hands balled up into angry fists, shaking in repressed fury.

 _Nobody will be there for me._

A sudden cold settled inside him, filling him up to the bone. His entire body started to shake as hollow chuckles slipped passed blood-stained lips. It was freezing cold, but at the same time scorching hot. This new feeling which leaves him wanting to just _rip Petunia's head off of her neck._

Thoughts flashed through his mind at a rapid pace, one thousand and one ways of _how to slay a whale and a skinny giraffe._ He was laughing now, holding his stomach as he laughed to his hearts content. There was no humour in his laugh though, no real humour at least. His uncle had released him, after getting no response when he asked, _"What the bloody hell are you laughing about, boy?!"_

Petunia stood next to Vernon, simply staring at him with a horrified expression on her face. Vernon looked the same, though mixed with an angry red colour as he held his wife.

 _No one cares._

 _So why should he?_

"S-stay away! Get back!" Vernon yelled at him, slowly stepping into the living room behind him. Harry tilted his head to the side slightly, looking at his aunt and uncle curiously. As if they were a new species of animal he sees for the first time, and their exhibiting strange behaviour. "Don't come any closer!" Harry didn't listen to the the warnings of his uncle. They both knew, that it was an empty threat anyways. He was calling the dips now.

With every step Harry took, the Dursley's took a large one back, until they hit the wall at the end of the room, the television situated next to it on a low cabinet. Petunia was panicking, gripping her husbands arm maybe a little too hard.

They knew what he could do, and feared it.

 _"FREAK!"_ Petunia's screech echoed through the silent house. The taps of Harry's feet on the floor falling silent, as he stood still in the middle of the room next to the couch.

Oh how he _hated_ that word. _Loathed_ it, even. He had to endure being called like that for most of his short life. In the beginning he thought he was even called Boy or Freak. Where-after he thought, _who would ever call their own child that?_

He could ignore most of Dudley's taunts, take most of his uncles verbal and physical abuse and also pretty much ignore the fact the way his aunt treated him.

But now, he was just down right _pissed_.

"A freak, am I?" Harry asked, a humourless scoff slipping past his lips.

The air filled with a sudden pressure, making it difficult for the adults to breath. It felt as if their lungs were pressing together as their airways were constricting. Petunia clawed at her throat as she looked, wide-eyed at the child standing before him.

Vernon croaked something unintelligible, spluttering as he fell back against the wall.

Harry smiled sweetly at them, the glint in his eyes telling an entirely different story.

"I'll let you live, for now." He walked slowly towards them again, "Only for the fact that I don't have a different place to go to at the moment, as I'm only a child as you may understand. But things will be a bit _different_ from now on." He looked at them sharply, eyes narrowing in warning. "I get my own room, decent clothes, at least two meals a day and you can't tell me anything anymore. I have the final say in my own matters and you'll do well to listen to me." The invisible hands tightened on their necks in warning as Vernon garbled something, his face turning purple again. But this time it was from lack of air instead of anger.

Harry looked at him, head tilted slightly to the side. "Hm? What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"Y-yeesh"

Harry smiled at the answer, "Good boy," He praised Vernon as if he were a dog that did something that pleases its owner. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?" He released his hold on them, Vernon and Petunia collapsing to the floor as they coughed and heaved for air.

He walked towards the door, blood still dripping from the back of his head. He stopped once he was at the doorway, looking back at the two adults still on the floor as they stared at him. Harry smiled warmly, his eyes glowing eerily.

"Make sure to tell Dudley of the new arrangements, yes?"

He walked away without waiting for an answer.

~§~

And so he breezed through the classes he had, surpassing children thrice his age. He didn't even have to do much for all that, since the curriculum was fairly simple. So it was only a year later that he took the final tests and passed them all without so much as breaking a sweat.

He was placed in secondary school next, where teens of twelve years and up went. He was met with jealous looks spiteful remarks, but he simply chose to ignore them. Eventually he got placed in the higher classes with older students. Things went differently there. These children spent most of their time learning and were smarter than their peers. So, when a boy of 7 years got placed with them, and upped them in most things, did they start to make it a race.

Harry didn't really compete or anything, but some students thought they had to proof him something. They studied relentlessly, tiring themselves out. One girl even had a nervous break down in the middle of the class after he, again, owned the highest score on a test.

Harry didn't really care either way, but the school board decided that he was good enough to go up another year.

It only took another year to graduate and be allowed to attend college.

The students there were even older, around the age of eighteen. And most don't really like the idea of being in the same class as a child (who surpasses them even.)

The bullying got more physical. Varying from shoving him in the hall, tripping him on his way to his seat 'till destroying his stuff. But after one bully _'miraculously'_ fell from the stairs of three high and ended up in a hospital did they finally stop. It had seemed as if they knew it was his doing, whispering behind his back when he walked in the halls. Harry didn't correct their assumptions.

The teachers weren't much better than the students though. It would go well for a while, before Harry even surpasses the professors in their job. Correcting things, the teacher would talk about, and proofing he was right. Reading on his own while the teacher gives a lecture, making them angry at him whilst he calmly explains to them that he already knew this stuff.

Eventually they just began to ignore him, letting him do as he pleases in their lessons.

So here he is now, attending a new class in college as he already finished the other one at the tender age of nine.

His studies weren't the only things he made progress in. His magic research and practice of it went ahead in leaps and bounds. It was amazing really what he so all could do with just a little bit of magic. But, sadly, he came to a standstill. Yes, he could use his magic just perfectly and do just about anything with it, but it took a lot of energy out of him. Small things, such as making things float, was an easy feat. He could almost do it without really having to concentrate on it.

But _teleporting_ , yes he knew how to teleport. It happened whilst he was in class, bored out of his mind. He had wished he would be anywhere but there. The next thing he knew all colours blurred together and the feeling of being pressed on in all directions made him queasy. Suddenly the uncomfortable feeling had stopped and Harry stood in the middle of London, just in time to jump away from an oncoming car and off the road.

He had practised long and hard, before he had the confidence to say that he knew the basic principle of how to teleport.

He wanted to learn more. _Know_ more. And the possibilities with it seemed endless.

Harry listened with half an ear to the teacher as he ignored his classmates scathing looks send his way. He couldn't wait to learn more about magic.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

Harry stared up at the decrepit looking building seated between a bookshop and a record store. It was a dark and shabby building, which looked to be in need of a reconstruction. It didn't fit with the other buildings and stores lined next to it, and most people strolled passed, not really caring about the old building or just not seeing it in the first place. Which brought him here in the first place.

Harry was in London for an excursion with the class he was staying with at the moment. It was fairly boring, the teacher droning on about the architecture and the history of the streets. Harry kept to the back of the group of rowdy teenagers who were shoving each other or harassing passer-by's. He didn't bother listening to the useless droning of when the buildings were built and what techniques were used as he glanced up the busy street, observing the other people walking by. Tourists were taking pictures of everything they found interesting, _ooh'ing_ and _aah'ing_ as if they had to express more obviously that they were not from England. Bright red double-deckers were driving past, letting people on and off of the bus. A man was calling from inside a phone-booth, looking agitated at the horn. It was a fairly normal day for England. Grey skies hanging overhead making the surroundings look drearier than was necessary in Harry's opinion.

His gaze slid over the various people on the streets, not really having anything else to do other than listening to his boring teacher or joining in with his classmates. Really, not much choice for him. His classmates tended to just ignore his presence altogether, thinking that, if they didn't acknowledge him, that he wasn't there in the first place. Which was just fine in Harry's opinion.

So watching the people it was, then.

They rounded a corner, turning into a different street as Harry trailed absentmindedly after them. Really, he could do much more useful things with his time. Why he was forced into this mandatory excursion was beyond him. He just wanted to read further about the psychological ways of the human thinking and how to persuade the people. It was an interesting read. Or he could even be working on his magic, he hadn't had much time to practice lately. What with various universities

Already trying to scout him. Harvard was only one of the many who had heard about him and were already on the look out for when he got his college degrees, which weren't very far away.

It was when Harry zeroed back in into the world that he finally saw what was around him, and he stopped short. His gaze lingered on a man walking down the other side of the street. The man wasn't very special looking, if anything Harry would say he was average. Not handsome but not ugly either. Just a normal man who was just coincidently walking there. But that wasn't what caught Harry's interest. Oh, no. It was the way the man was dressed.

Black robes billowed in the wind as the man walked briskly passed the other pedestrians. Making sure not to touch them as the people walked on, seemingly not seeing the man walking by them. _Where are you going…_ Harry thought as he narrowed his eyes at the man. Making up his mind, Harry glanced at the group of people he had been trailing after, seeing them already far ahead of him. Harry snorted softly as he stepped off the sidewalk. _It's not like they'll miss me._ Harry hurried after the man, running across the street as he weaved through cars and cyclists. Angry horns followed his wake before he disappeared down the same street he saw the man walk into.

The class walked on, not noticing that they were missing a short, nine-year old boy.

~§~

Harry weaved through alleyways and around people, not hearing (more like ignoring) the angry and indignant calls shouted after him as he occasionally bumped into someone. He caught a flash of black rounding the corner and he increased his speed as he began to run, trying to not lose sight of this strangely dressed man he was pursuing.

Maybe he was following this person in vain and did the man just like to dress up as if he came straight from the middle ages.

But Harry had a feeling that that wasn't really the case. And his gut was always right. So with his hopes up he turned into another street and stopped short. The man had disappeared. Harry turned in a full circle, hoping he may have lost sight of him. Nada. Nowhere to be seen. The guy just disappeared. And looking at the long one-way street with no alley-ways in close proximity confirmed his suspicions. He went into one of these buildings.

 _But which one…_ Harry glanced around slowly, narrowing his eyes at the various old looking buildings. _He could've gone into any one of these._ Harry deadpanned, looking around in disdain.

Harry turned around, intent on going back and finding his class again, not wanting to waste his time scouring every one of these buildings. Tch. Just when it started to get interesting. He didn't get to make a single step before he bumped into someone. Stumbling back, he glanced up at the woman before him and just stared. She huffed at him, brushing down her robes and left Harry standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

 _How lucky._

He glanced back at the woman who wore the same type of robes as the man had. There was either some sort of gathering for people who wanted to cosplay, or it was some sort of secret cult meeting.

Harry hoped it was the latter. It would certainly make things more exciting.

~§~

So here he was, standing in front of what looked to be a pub. "The Leaky Cauldron" Harry read from the wooden plate hanging above the door, a wooden board with a cauldron painted on it squeaked in the wind as it hung from a rusty stem.

He grabbed the door handle and took a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst.

He wasn't disappointed.

It was like he stepped back a few hundred years in time.

The walls were barren, of any colour, making the room look sombre and uninviting for most people. Various paintings hung from the walls and one big chandelier hung above a long table situated in the centre of the room.

A bar stood to the side, one bartender was wiping down some glasses with an old and dirty rug. Various people were situated around the room, mostly minding their own business.

Harry was glad for that.

He was surprised that these people weren't very worried about a young boy entering such a questionable place by himself, which was kind of odd. But he wouldn't look a gifted horse in the mouth, certainly not when it meant he could observe these people some more.

Harry went to sit by the bar. He had to climb up one of the high stools, curse his short stature. Suffice to say it was quite embarrassing that he was still smaller than the average nine-year old. Even with the better meals the damage was already done.

"How can I help ya lad?" A gruff voice said from behind him, making him whip around on the stool so fast he almost fell off.

"Uhm…" He stuttered out a water, and watched as the man grabbed a glass from behind.

"A water coming up for..Oh, Good Lord! Harry Potter!" The exclamation was yelled in surprise as the old man finally looked at Harry. Both brows rose up to his hairline, looking startled at the man who seems to know his name. The sudden silence inside the pub brought him on edge.

"Harry Potter?" Someone said a few tables away from him.

" _The_ Harry Potter?"

All inhabitants seem to move as one, all standing up and clambering to the boy. The first thing they seemed to do was look at his forehead, where Harry knew was where his lightning bolt-shaped scar situated, before they all tried to shake his hand or touch him.

It was overwhelming. And Harry was beginning to get a bit frightened by this unusual behaviour of these strangers who all seemed to know him.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Potter!" One man almost screamed at him as he enthusiastically shook his hand up and down. Harry tried to get away of the swarming mess of people, barely refraining from using his magic to blast these people away from himself.

Luckily, the bartender seemed to take pity on him and called out to the masses to stand back.

Eventually Harry managed to slip away, hiding behind the counter as he scowled at the old man who seemed to have started it all.

How did these people know about him and why are they treating him like he is some sort of celebrity?

He didn't dwell on it for much longer as the bartender said something to him.

"Excuse me?"

Tom smiled a toothless smile at him, making Harry cringe slightly. That guy needed to see a dentist. "Did you want ta go ta Diagon Alley, Mr. Potter?"

Harry stared blankly at him for a while, before reluctantly nodding his head. Diagon Alley? That wasn't a street name from around here. He followed Tom to the back of the shop into a small, walled courtyard. A dustbin stood next to one wall, making the space even smaller. Harry kept as much distance as possible. He wanted to be able to make a quick escape if needed. After the escapade from only a minute before, he was reluctant to trust this man.

The bartender took out a long wooden stick and, to Harry at least, randomly tapped some brick stones on the wall. From the trash can, three up and two across. At first there didn't happen much, and Harry started to doubt the mans sanity. Maybe he shouldn't have followed a strange old man into the back of a pub who was clearly a bit deranged.

Before he could back out the door however, the bricks started to quake and a small hole started to appear, before it gradually got bigger and bigger as bricks started to move away, forming a large archway.

Harry stared.

He couldn't believe it. This man was like him. He could do magic. There were more people like him. Wizards. He wondered if the people still back in the pub were also magical. It certainly would explain their dress-code and the way they all seemed to know him (even if he still didn't understand _why_ or _how_.)

Tom grinned at him, stepping aside so Harry could walk through the large archway.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter. Welcome back."

~§FiliusMortis~§~

Diagon Alley was, simply put, a _magical_ place.

Harry didn't really know where to start. There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon

He just walked aimlessly, looking at anything and everything around him.

For the first time in his life, Harry felt like he belonged. A warm sensation flowed through him and it felt like butterflies were let loose inside his stomach. He never felt this way before. So jittery and excited.

He weaved through the crowds, not really being able to stand still for long at one place before something caught his eye at a different store or stall.

Harry was still wary, though. As it seemed to be his scar that had alerted those people earlier to him being Harry Potter. He had pulled the hood of his jacket up over his head, hiding his forehead from view. He didn't want another repeat of that.

If his deductions are true (and they mostly always are), then he is some sort of famous wizard in this world. For what, he wouldn't know. But the fact is that he is, and he can't really do anything about it for now.

The currency was different here. Harry had noticed that the people here paid with large golden, small bronze or middle-sized silver coins. He wondered if there was a bank here, and if it would be possible to exchange the few pounds he had on his person into these coins.

He decided to ask a vendor about it, where after he got some directions which led him to an imposing snow-white marble building.

"Gringotts Bank," Harry read, slowly walking up the stairs which led up to a set of burnished bronze doors. A creature stood next to them, garbed in a scarlet and golden uniform.

Harry stepped through the doors, the creature eyeing him before turning back to looking in front of him (at least harry thinks it's a he.) It led him into a small entrance hall, where there was another set of doors. This one made out of silver with the text:

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

engraved on it.

 _Well,_ Harry thought, blinking at the odd warning. _At least it's clear on it's message._ He wondered what was guarding downstairs then. _Maybe for another time._

Harry pushed open the doors (again flanked by those creatures, he really had to find out what they were,) taking off his hood as he walked into a vast marble hall with around a hundred of those creatures sitting behind high counters which stretched along the length of the floor. The creatures were weighing various valuable stones and gold, looking at them for authenticity and others were scribbling away on thick parchment with long feather quills.

They looked up as he walked past. Harry just walked on, straightening his back and holding his chin up a bit to look more confidant. He really was starting to be a bit nervous with all the stares aimed at his back.

He walked up to the counter at the very back of the hall, clearing his throat to catch the attention of the creature seated atop. It stopped scribbling on a parchment, laying the quill down before looking over the counter at him.

"Yes?" It sounded irritated, looking impatiently at the child interrupting his work.

Harry decided to just head to the point, "Is it possible if I could exchange pounds in your er… currency?"

The creature arched a brow. "Certainly, Mr…"

Harry hoped there wouldn't be a repeat of _the incident_ , as he so accurately dubbed it in his mind. "Harry Potter."

It wasn't the reaction he was expecting, but a reaction nonetheless. The creature leaned forward, scrutinizing him up and down with it's beady eyes, eventually resting on his scar partly hidden behind his bangs.

"Key please."

Harry frowned at the creature, "Key? What 'key'?"

It leaned back, waving another creature to him and whispering something in its pointy ear before waving it away on its appointed task. The creature steeples its long, gnarly fingers together, looking at Harry with interest now.

"Your account manager will be here shortly Mr. Potter. There you will do a blood-test to verify your identity, if you don't mind?" It wasn't like he had a choice, Harry thought. He still nodded though, masking his initial surprise about apparently owning a vault here.

It wasn't long before another creature came, introducing itself as Gornuk, his apparent accounts manager.

Harry knew that this talk would be long and arduous.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~


	4. Chapter 3

**And here is chapter 3! I had a bit of a hard time writing this one :-/  
Any way, we are in the 200+ Followers! and 100+ Favs! Cookies for everyone!**

 **Leave a review for poor old me :'( It really motivates a writer to get to work, ya know ;)**

 **Anyways! I hope you all enjoy~!**

 **P.s. Follow me on tumblr! If you have any questions about when I update or how it is progressing, you can always ask there ;) You can find a link on my profile.**

 **Disclaimer:** I'm getting tired of doing this… I don't own!

 **Warnings:** A bit of Dumbledore bashing (Maybe a lot), A little bit of Weasley bashing (Not sure though…), Cussing and OC's, very slow build, more warnings in later chapters...

 **Beta:** Un-beta'ed (as usual)

 **Previously:**

 _"Class this is Harry Potter; he will be staying here for a while."_

..

 _"A freak, am I?"_

..

 _"Oh, Good Lord! Harry Potter!"_

..

 _"Welcome back, Mr. Potter. Welcome back."_

..

 _"Key? What key?"  
_

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

Chapter 3

"With power comes the abuse of power. And where there are bosses, there are crazy bosses. It's nothing new." ~Judd Rose

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

Harry stared at the small ensemble of creatures bowing before him, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He could already feel a headache starting to form. They were small (smaller than him, he thought gleefully) ghastly creatures clad in nothing more than what looked like sheets and pillowcases which they wore like some sort of togas. They had big, round eyes the size of a tennis ball and big pointy ears which flopped up and down as they continued to bow at his feet, their long, pointy noses touching the marble flooring. _House-elves,_ his mind whispered at him. He had _House-elves_. The first moment he had met them, they scared the living daylights out of him by suddenly popping into existence as he stepped through the front door. He wasn't very sure what to do at this moment. He'd never been in such a predicament before. And with predicament he meant owning these creatures who worked at his very own mansion. Or, well, the Potter mansion. But he was the last living Potter in existence now, and so the rightful owner of this huge _house_ (if you could even call it that.)

"We're so glad that Master has returned, yes we are! We kept the mansion nice and clean in yous absence Master, yes we did. We hope everything is to yous liking Master Potter." The tallest elf said, bowing lower and lower the more he spoke. _Obviously the head of the elves_. Harry thought as he blinked at them. It had only been half an hour ago when he had sat down with his account manager Gornuk the goblin (He had asked Gornuk exactly what they were, and the goblin replied gruffly as he led the way to a small office.) And suffice to say, he had learnt a _lot_ in the time he sat with the goblin.

~§~

 _"Mr. Potter," Gornuk began as he shuffled through a drawer of his desk, pulling out some parchment and a gleaming dagger. Harry raised his eyebrow at the weapon, quickly putting his guard up. If that creature, Goblin, whatever… If that Goblin even thinks of so much as attacking him, he will not be held responsible for the damage he will cause. Turns out, Gornuk only wanted a couple drops of blood from him, which he gave without blinking. He watched curiously as Gornuk flicked three drops on the parchment and began chanting something in his scratchy voice. So goblins could use magic too? Interesting. He wondered if there were any more creatures out there, being able to use some type of magic. His mind swirled around dragons and fairies and majestic elves. Do these creatures have the same type of magic as him? Or did they have an entirely different sort? And if so, he wondered if he could learn it. He snapped back to reality when it got suddenly silent, turning back to what was happening in front of him._

 _The paper gave off a soft, blood red glow before words began to write itself on the blank pages. Harry couldn't see what was on it, as Gornuk had grabbed the paper as soon as it stopped glowing and began reading. Harry waited patiently, watching the goblins face as it changed in surprise before contorting in a frown. He tapped his fingers on the armrest, tapping to the melody of a song stuck in his head which only he could hear. London bridge is falling down, echoing eerily in his head. Really, he could make from the most innocent nursery rhymes a disturbing song even in his own head. Gornuk glanced up for a second, annoyance flitting over his face as his beady eyes flickered towards his fingers before resuming his reading. Harry continued his tapping in the silence, just out of spite. Hey, he was bored. Sue him for trying to distract himself, even if it was at the expanse of another person- creature, whatever. He couldn't care less if his accounts manager was a pink monkey on crack, as long as he got his job done. After all, he wasn't about to discriminate someone on being a little different than him, that would be hypocritical. After all, how many times was he called a freak or an abomination for being a little different? No. Harry wasn't going to start. Not now, not ever._

 _He stopped after a few minutes, at least it felt like that, when Gornuk put down the papers and looked at him. He felt like he was being dissected by those sharp, black eyes. They stared at each other for a while, Harry narrowing his eyes stubbornly, not backing down from the apparent challenge, and Gornuk with increasing interest. After a while, he seemed to find what he was looking for, as he broke the staring contest with the nine-year-old child and slowly slid the parchment across the desk towards Harry._

 _Getting the indication, Harry gingerly picked up the thick parchment, still looking at his account manager. He settled back in his chair, planning to read it in all leisure._

 _It took him less than a minute to skim the contents, another to check it again and a third to make sure he was actually reading it right. He looked up at Gornuk, an expression on his face which screamed, Explain, Now!_

 _Gornuk grinned, showing off wicked sharp teeth as he stapled his long gnarly fingers under his pointy chin. Harry thought he should've felt intimidated by the, admittedly, dangerous creature sitting before him. But, he never liked doing things the normal way as that can be so_ boring _. He only felt a mild annoyance and, admittedly, a lot of curiosity right now. He wondered how his life would have turned out, if he wasn't who he was. And if it would be as mundane as every other boring person. Living their lives like mindless sheep, following the crowds and never creating their own opinions (or too scared to show them.) He shuddered at the thought of himself still being unaware of his magic. He didn't want to be a part of that crowd. Didn't want to fade away into nothingness._

 _He was getting off track again. He really should start paying attention, least he gives himself a headache later on because he missed something vital._

 _"I see I've finally gotten your attention Mr. Potter," amusement laced his words, but his face was dead serious. Apparently Gornuk also didn't want this to take any longer than is necessary. Harry smiled sheepishly, the expression feeling almost alien on his face and gestured with his hand for the goblin to continue. "Now I'm going to ask you some questions, Mr. Potter. And it will be best for yourself to answer them truthfully." Black eyes pinned him down for a second before he grabbed a stack of parchment from a desk drawer, shuffling through them until he found what he was looking for and skimmed its contents. "You said that you have no recollection of the existence of your vault key, am I correct?" Harry simply nodded his head, not really deeming it necessary to answer such a stupid question. But, he relented, it was probably some sort of customary question the goblin had to ask before they could proceed_

 _"Are you aware of your current magical guardian, Mr. Potter?" Harry frowned slightly. He had a magical guardian? Then where was this person all these years? They had to at least check up on him once in a while, right? "No, I don't." Gornuk didn't seem very surprised by this titbit of information, shuffling through the parchment again. But Harry wasn't done yet, "I actually found out about this- this world just today," Gornuk glanced up, the only indication that he is surprised is the slightly raised eyebrows. "I- I accidently stumbled across a- what did you call it- wizard in the streets of London. And was curious enough to follow him inside this pub..." He glanced down at his hands which were wringing the end of his jacket in a nervous manner. "Next thing I know people are calling my name, wanting to shake my hand. Thanking me for something…uhm," He glanced up, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "Next thing I know I'm being horded through a moving wall and standing in an alley." He glanced down again, shifting around in his seat._

 _"I- I didn't even know about wizards until today." Well, it wasn't technically a lie…_

 _Gornuk leaned back in his chair, looking for the world entirely composed. But Harry could see the calculating glint in his eyes. Goblins were smart creatures, Harry found. They had to be if they were running a bank._

 _"It appears that there has been some neglect on our part, Mr. Potter." Gornuk stated, taking out two pieces of parchment and shoving it across the desk towards the child seated across from him. "We have sent various letters and messages via owl, but it seems that something or someone has been intercepting it." Harry's eyes narrowed as he looked at the goblin in front of him._

 _"Who?"_

 _That one word was enough to bring a blood-thirsty grin on the goblins face. Apparently Gornuk disliked this person as much as he was starting to. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," he sneered, gesturing with a sharp nail at the second parchment which he had yet to read. He took it before him and read as he listened to the Goblin speak. "He is entitled Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards." Gornuk waved away the blank look he received from Harry, saying that he could look it up later. Harry conceded, seeing the logic in that. The goblin continued, leaning forward in his chair slightly as he looked intently at Harry. "He got offered the position of minister of Magic, but turned it down in favour of staying Headmaster at the biggest wizarding school in Britain. He is still acting as a, so to say,_ advisor _for the current minister of Magic, though."_

 _Gornuk waited, watching as realisation slowly dawned on Harry. He blinked his green eyes a couple of times, feeling a sudden sense of nausea coming up._

 _"Ah..." He breathed out, looking straight at the goblin whose grin was getting wider by the second. The man declined a powerful political position, in favour of teaching students, young children, about magic. Now, as a minister you might have the highest position, but you would still have a lot of restrictions on you. And even if those earlier titles were simply that, titles (which he very much doubted.) This Albus would still be able to whisper his ah-…_ opinions _into the ministers' ear._

 _And then he wasn't even talking about his position as a headmaster at, apparently, one of the biggest schools in Wizarding Britain, maybe even_ Europe _. He can influence every mind of those children, as they are young and susceptible once they enter._

 _This could be a problem._

 _A big one._

 _"And," he swallowed a bit, his throat feeling like he had swallowed a brick. "What has this got to do with me?" He already knew why. But he wanted to hear it from the goblin itself._

 _Gornuk snapped his fingers, a tall glass of water appearing on the mahogany desk. Harry took it tentatively, sniffing at it before taking a small sip. Seeing as nothing happened he took another one and was grateful for the cool liquid as it slowly cooled down his sore throat._

 _"As you may have guessed, Albus Dumbledore is your assigned magical guardian at the moment." Gornuk leaned back again, tapping his long, sharp nails onto the armrests of his chair. "Now, the task of a magical guardian is to, if they are not able to provide a place at their own home, one in a safe environment." Harry snorted, also leaning back in his chair._

 _"Well, that's one thing he already failed at."_

 _"Oh?" Gornuk raised an interested eyebrow at that, stopping his tapping for a second before continuing._

 _"Hmm… If you call being locked up in a cupboard, starved for days, made to do labour in and around the house and being called degrading names and beaten to near death a save environment, then I wouldn't want to imagine what a bad one is." It may not be as bad since that one fateful day, four years ago, but who would fault him. It wasn't like he was_ lying _or anything, seeing as it actually happened for a few years._

 _Something flashed across Gornuk's eyes, but Harry could guess what he was thinking about. If Gornuk was aiming for what he thinks he was aiming, then this information would certainly help._

 _"It would seem so Mr. Potter. It is also the guardians task to check up on their charge at least once a month," He looked at Harry who remained silent. "Has there been anyone coming by your house?" Harry thought for a bit, thinking back if there were any strange people coming by, but drew up nothing. "No." Gornuk nodded, scribbling something on a blank piece of parchment with one of those long feather quills. "Albus Dumbledore was also the one to inform you of everything related to your vaults, properties, titles and anything related to the magical world at large. We have already estimated that he had neglected that task also."_

 _There was no need to answer as Gornuk was already scribbling away furiously, ignoring Harry until he finished. Once done he slid the parchment and quill over to Harry, who read through it slowly. He didn't want to sign a death-trap, thank you very much. "It's a request for an early emancipation. As your circumstances are pretty unusual, and your magical guardian proven to be unfit, I will make sure that you will be made a legal adult in the wizarding world. We will have to bring up a formal hearing with the ministry, as they have to give their assent." Gornuk sneered disdainfully._ Probably not much of a ministry fan _, Harry thought._ Or maybe not a fan of wizards in general _. He would probably find out eventually anyway._

 _"Will there be a chance that we won't succeed? And what will happen if we don't?" Gornuk didn't say anything for a little while, opting to choose his words very carefully. It didn't feel like he was talking to a small child of just nine years. It certainly didn't feel like he was talking to someone stupid. And he got this strong feeling that if he made one wrong move, one wrong_ word _, that he would wish he was dead. This wasn't a normal child. Not even a normal_ wizard _. A primal instinct was warning him that this child, this wizard, was_ dangerous _if he wanted to be. Gornuk wasn't even sure if Harry Potter was fully human._

 _"The ministry will try to work against us vehemently, as most will be against your young age. Then there is also Dumbledore, who, as Chief Warlock, will be overseeing the court procedures. And of course the minister who will be against us as it will tarnish his reputation if it comes out that the 'precious' boy-who-lived was left, unsupervised, in a neglecting and abusing household under his 'regime'." Green eyes narrowed dangerously, almost glowing. Harry just listened quietly, not planning on interrupting the goblin anytime soon. He didn't know about his reputation here, but he was planning on finding out soon. Harry didn't like not knowing. Certainly not when it had something to do with himself. "If they win, then you will probably be placed under a wizarding family who are already under Dumbledore's influence. Most likely the Weasley's. If that happens it will be very difficult to get you out. Either when you turn into an adult legally by age, which won't happen for another eight years, or when you are magically recognized as an adult. Which can only happen if you are entering a competition only for adults (which will not likely happen) or if you have graduated your schooling and all OWL's and NEWT's are in order."_

 _"So that leaves us only one option,"_

 _Gornuk nodded, placing his claw-like hands on the wood of his desk. "We only have one chance, yes."_

 _Harry placed his elbows on his knees, leaning his chin in his hand as he thought_

 _"Luckily for you Mr. Potter," Harry looked up at Gornuk as the goblin wrote something down and snapped his fingers, the paper vanishing. "We goblins have our own branch of lawyers and I'll make sure that only the best is on your case." Just then a loud knock came on the door and a big, mean looking goblin stepped inside. Its face seemed to be stuck in a permanent scowl as it glowered at anything and everything. Gornuk stood up from his stool, walking towards the newcomer. Harry followed suit, opting to stand by his chair. A little way away from the two goblins who were just as tall as he was._

 _"Gornuk," The newcomer grumbled, nodding towards the slightly smaller goblin. "Bagnok, this is your new client Harry Potter. Mr. Potter, This is Bagnok, our finest lawyer in over a few decades. He hasn't lost a case since."_

 _Bagnok bowed at him, and Harry, not knowing what else to do, bowed back at the slightly taller creature. Both seemed surprised that he bowed back, but Harry ignored it in favour of taking back his seat and sipping from his half-full glass of water. "Well," He said after a few seconds of silence where neither goblin moved, "Lets fill you in on the details, shall we? And hope not to spoil your track-record."_

 _They sat for a while, Gornuk doing most of the talking as he explained to Bagnok what was happening. Harry sat, listening with half an ear as he added his two cents in once and a while. It was twenty minutes later when they were finally done and could proceed onto the next matters._

 _"This will be a tricky case Mr. Potter," Bagnok said, crossing his arms over his chest. "It won't be cheap." Harry met his gaze evenly, raising an eyebrow at the goblin. "From what I understood, lawyer Bagnok, is that money is hardly an issue." He glanced at Gornuk for confirmation._

 _"At the moment you only have access to your trust vault left by the late Mr and Mrs Potter, but there should be more than enough to funds this case." Harry turned back to his lawyer, who grunted before nodding towards the child. "Very well Mr. Potter. I will be your lawyer in this case. But I will need help, otherwise this will be an impossible task."_

 _"I already thought as much, we're going to have to contact her and make an appointment. We have to get her on our side, it would make things much easier." Bagnok nodded to Gornuk, already beginning on writing a letter which they will probably send to this person by owl._

 _"What about Dumbledore?" He asked suddenly, causing the other two occupants to turn their attention back to him. "He'll be a big problem if he finds out about this too soon," he continued. "He will find out eventually, there is nothing to be done against that. But it would be infinitely harder if he worked against us from the very start. We have to be cautious. Because I don't think he left me isolated from the wizarding world without getting something out of it. He even went as far as to intercept my letters._

 _"Ah yes, now that you mention it," Gornuk rummaged through his desk drawer again, pulling out some papers. "It seems that Dumbledore has extracted money from your trust vault on a regular basis, paying money to the Order of the Phoenix and the Weasley family. He also seems to have taken some objects your family has left you, including a pensieve and an invisibility cloak which has been in your family for generations."_

 _Harry frowned, gripping the armrests of his seat a little too tightly. "That's probably not all, am I right?"_

 _Gornuk looked at him, nothing showing on his face. "No," He tapped one of the parchment papers which laid out in front of him. It was his blood test. Bagnok sat silently to the left of him, not saying anything. "As you have read in here, you are the heir of some very_ prominent _houses. By blood or by magic or even in some of their wills, you hold a lot of power in your hands without even being a lord yet. Alas, we goblins don't know very much about this sort of thing, so you will have to do some research on it. But what I can tell you is that you hold a significant amount of seats."_

 _Harry continued to frown as the goblin explained. "What does that exactly hold?"_

 _"A seat," Bagnok answered instead, "Is a vote in court. Normally one holds only one seat, as that is customary. Those are mostly families of little significance, or ministry workers. Then you have the Pureblood families, like the Malfoys and Carrows for instance. They their amount of seats varies per family, as it is customary to marry with someone of equal significance and take over their place. That's why most pureblood families only have one heir, so that they will keep the power within their own family."_

 _"And then," Gornuk said, placing his knobby elbows on the table. "There are the Ancient houses of Merlin, Morgana, Peverell and the four founders of Hogwarts. They are the highest on the hierarchy. They could outvote anyone if they decide on it. And you, Mr. Potter," He looked Harry squarely in the eye_

 _"Are the heir to five of those seven houses."_

 _"If you count all the house seats, there are a total of twenty-seven seats. Of course those of the ancient houses are in a sort of stasis, only able to be used if the rightful heir comes to claim them, so that leaves seven seats."_

 _Harry nodded, frowning down at the table in thought. "Seven seats in the hands of an old manipulator." Gornuk nodded, lips thinning in an unpleased line. "How was he able to use them at all, if I never gave any consent?"_

 _"As your legal guardian, he also had the responsibility of holding on to the seats until you were ready to claim them. He could use them if you gave him permission to use them in certain courts, but as no-one ever questioned it, he could get away with using them for his own benefits. Which is illegal."_

 _Harry sat, unmoving, until slowly a grin started to form on his mouth. It was by no means nice, it was pure malicious intent. Both goblins shivered a bit as the temperature in the room churned. Gornuk watched the small child before him, only one thought echoing around in his mind as he sat motionless in his chair._

Albus Dumbledore, you better prepare yourself for the storm that is coming.

 _"We will change the keys on your vaults, and give them personally to you the next time we meet." Gornuk said after a moment of tense silence. "We will specialize them so only you will be able use them. Also the family rings, which you will have to wear as a heir, will all be ready for you. We will customize them then, as that will be more practical."_

 _"Yes, thank you for the effort, Gornuk. Bagnok." He nodded towards the two goblins, who bowed their heads in return. "It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Potter," Bagnok said, stepping towards the door. "I will contact you as soon as possible." And he was out the door before Harry could give a reply._

 _"Gornuk," said goblin turned towards his client, "Yes, Mr. Potter?"_

 _"Call me Harry," the goblin nodded, there were a few seconds of contemplating silence before Harry continued what he wanted to say. "Make sure to get all my belongings and money back that Mr. Dumbledore ah…_ took _without my permission if you will. But most of all the artefacts, I'm most curious why he had need of them…"_

 _"I'll make sure that it will be back in your possession as soon as possible Mr. Pott- Harry," Gornuk said, "We wont mention your name, if he starts to question it. I will try to do it as discreetly as possible. I will also redirect any owl-post that is meant for you. We will have to do some enchantments, and check you for any spells placed on your person, but that is easily done. We can make an appointment if you will."_

 _"Oh and Gornuk," Harry turned back around as he stood in the doorway, "Don't fail me."_

 _Gornuk grinned as he watched Harry's retreating back._

Things are going to get exciting.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

It was already evening by the time they finished discussing, and Harry had gotten a portkey which would take him to one of his properties for the night. So here he was now, standing in front of an escort of house elves. He sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. He had a headache the size of mount Everest. They were still blabbering about nothing and everything at the same time. It only aggravated the pain behind his eyes further. He was hungry, tired and angry at the wizarding world in general.

After that talk with the goblins, he really wasn't as enthusiastic about the wizarding world as he was at first. Eventually they were all human, and humanity at large was a huge _disappointment_. They were greedy, and pretty stupid. They were all still so _mundane_. The only difference between 'muggles' and 'wizards' was that one has more technology and the other a stick they could wave around. Really, it was all the same principle. Muggles had weapons; guns, bombs, machinery. Wizards had magic which, from his own experience, could be just as destructive. They were both just humans who are overpowered in two different ways, but all still the same.

He had thought that he would finally have a place where he belonged in, where he was no freak. Not an outsider anymore. But, it was too good to be true. Even in this world he is different. A _celebrity_ , he thought spitefully. He still didn't even know _why_ or _how_ he was one. So much to do. So much to learn.

"-We could make a bath for yous sir, or some tea? What would you like for dinner-"

"Alright, alright! Just, calm down please." Those bloody elves were a bit _too_ enthusiastic for their own good. "I would just like some dinner right now, it doesn't really matter what."

"You," an elf squeaked as he pointed at it, starting to bow repeatedly again. "Bring me to the library, if you will. I will eat there."

"Y-yes sirs!" All the other elves vanished, going back to their tasks and preparing dinner for their master. Harry followed the small elf as it happily walked him down the halls, almost skipping. Harry glanced at the walls, portraits of old men and women, who were looking like a six-foot pole was stuck in their arses, hang from the walls. They watched him curiously, whispering amongst themselves once he passed. Harry shook his head, of course the portraits were animate. He could see a soft glow surrounding the canvasses, one which he was particularly familiar with. It was the life-source of the portraits, one which every living being possessed. You could call it their aura, or 'soul'.

He had always been able to see them, even when he was a small child. Some had a very light glow surrounding the colours, some almost white, while others were dark with some bordering on black. The glows surrounding the colours represented ones' soul, the darker it is, the more sins you have made in your life. He had seen a few people with a black glow, making them look almost sickly. He had discovered that once someone committed a murder, your soul will be irreparable. Of course there was a way to remedy that, but that path was very painful. You had to _truly grief_ about the persons you have murdered. Not many even want to try.

Harry had never seen a person older than three with a pure soul. Most of the time it got only darker the older you became. The different colours within that glow, represented a persons' current emotions. Sometimes he couldn't see the colours of someone, but those were very few and far in-between.

Harry had more than one time in his life wandered what his soul was like. He couldn't see it.

Before he could continue with that train of thought he was shaken from his own musings by the sound of his name being called.

"Mr. Potter sirs? We have arrived at the library, sirs."

He looked at the great double-doors made of oak. Engravings were carved into them, making it look like a piece of artwork. Hm... he hadn't painted in a long while... maybe he should try his hand at it again to clear his mind from the hundreds of thoughts that zoomed past and relax a little. Gods knew that he needed a bit of relaxing after all this drama.

"Yes thank you…"

"Blimpy, sirs." The elf said almost shyly, wringing what looks to be a pillow case showcasing as a dress in her small hands.

"Yes, thank you Blimpy. Now, once dinner is ready, please bring it inside."

"Yes Sirs!" She bowed a few times, her long ears flopping up and down in her enthusiasm. She snapped her fingers and disappeared to, presumably, the kitchens. Harry sighed again. It would be getting used to to these house-elves.

He braced his hands on the bronze doorknobs and pushed open the heavy double doors.

 _Time to do some research._

~§~FiliusMortis~§~


	5. Chapter 4

**I am sooo sorry! Please don't hate me! :( These last couple of months have been really busy, and I was writing, really I did!I had almost this chapter finished when I just got the feeling that it wasn't good enough. So being the perfectionist that I am, I started all over again, yay!  
But, I can say for sure now that I am very happy with this chapter. Now I'm only hoping that you guys will think so too. **

**I do have to say one important thing though... 300+ Followers! ohmygawd! HOW?! You guys, are just amazing!  
And we're almost at the 200 mark for favorites!  
** **(Though I still wonder why there are still so few reviews)**

 **Disclaimer:** Mirum non habent libertatem, non litterarum explicaris. Et non solum habent ideam rerum meum.  
 **Translation:** I don't own this wonderful franchise, neither the characters involved. I only own my ideas, creativity and this story.

 **Warnings:** Slash in later chapters! Plotting, politics, raising the dead, A bit of Dumbledore bashing (Maybe a lot), A little bit of Weasley bashing (Not sure though…), Cussing, OC's etc.

 **Beta:** Un-beta'ed (I really do hope my grammar isn't as bad as I think it to be.)

 **Previously:**

 _"Now I'm going to ask you some questions, Mr. Potter. And it will be best for yourself to answer them truthfully."_

~§~

 _"What has this got to do with me?"_

~§~

 _"Bagnok, this is your new client Harry Potter. Mr. Potter, this is Bagnok."_

~§~

 _"And you, Mr. Potter, are the heir to five of those seven houses."_

~§~

 _"Oh and Gornuk,"_

~§~

"Don't fail me."

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

Chapter 4

"I just can't sit any other way than this. If I sit the way other people do, my reasoning ability drops by 40 percent." ~ L, Death Note

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

 _He was drowning._

He trashed around in the cold waters, flailing his arms and legs around in a pitiful attempt to reach the surface again. Though, he wasn't very sure which way was up or down anymore. All he knew for sure was _cold, pain, air-air-air…_

He could feel himself sinking down as if a weight was pulling him along into the unknown, going deeper and deeper until darkness was the only thing left around him. His lungs were screaming at him for some air, but as he opened his mouth the only thing coming inside was ice-cold water. It felt as if he was swallowing daggers he thought as he started to claw at his throat. His body started to convulse and trash around in the water. Green eyes widened in panic as large amounts of icy water were swallowed down until there was nothing left to fill anymore.

 _Is this what it feels like to die?_

His thoughts echoed around in his head, sounding louder than they ever were.

He wondered for a second if he would see his life flash before his eyes, like people used to describe in stories and in books. But the only thing he could see was inky darkness slowly creeping up on him. There were no hateful relatives, no old wizards trying to meddle in his life, no pain. Just _numbness._ It was… _peaceful._ He felt like he _belonged_.

 _Death isn't-_

His strength was leaving him rapidly, his body only twitching occasionally. His thoughts were getting muddled, as if a blanket was lain over them, dampening them to almost nothing. He could see a figure forming in front of him. It opened its arms and held them out before it stood completely still, like an unmoveable statue. It was simply waiting, and he could take a good guess as to what for. Only a few words were ringing clear in his head as his eyes finally closed to never open them again.

 _all that bad…_

A soft smile graced his lips as he finally got swapped away - into the arms that await him.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

Light filtered through the heavy curtains as the sun rose in the early morning sky. House-elves were bustling around the manor, doing their usual morning chores and preparing breakfast for their master who had yet to wake up.

Eyes flickered behind closed lids as a patch of sun shone directly on Harry's face, rousing him from his slumber. He groaned, opening tired green eyes as awareness slowly seeped back into him. Slowly he sat up in the king-size bed rubbing at his eyes with a tired groan. He's been having these dreams every night since he discovered the Wizarding world two weeks ago. It had been a hectic two weeks, filled with planning, preparing, trying to catch up on his duties, attending his college classes (as he was still of school age) and trying to learn as much about the wizarding world as his library allowed, which suffice to say is a lot. But sadly most books in Potter library were still too advanced for him, which really irritated him beyond words. He was supposed to be smart, _damnit_! But Harry knew when to be patience, and right now he'll have to do with what he can study (which are mostly books on politics, history and the basics in magic.) it was a slow process, but hopefully it will all be worth it. He did find out about his own history. How he conquered and did what nobody else thought was possible. _Survive_.

But that's just it, isn't it? Harry always had to survive. He had survived _eight years_ at the Dursleys, for Christ's sake! He hadn't done anything else but surviving for most part of his life, and apparently it had all started on Halloween night 1981 and continued on since then. Harry wouldn't be surprised if it had even started since the moment he was _born_. But luckily that wasn't the case.

Luckily for Harry, today was a Saturday, so at least there were no classes he had to attend. He didn't have any appointments with the Goblins today. They had decided to let Sunday be the day where they would relay all their new info to him and sort it out.

After Harry was done with his shower and went to put on his shoes was there a small knock on the door to his bedroom. At first the house-elves popped into the rooms he was in without any announcement, scaring the shit out of him a couple of times. So after the fifth time of it happening in the same day, had he summoned all the elves into the reception-area and told them to first knock on the door unless it was an emergency.

"A package has arrived for yous, sirs." The head-elf, Bulla, said as he gave Harry the brown-paper bundled something. Harry nodded at the elf as Bulla popped away to continue his duties.

Harry brought it back inside his chambers, inspecting it as he slowly walked to his desk by one of the high windows. Seeing a Gringotts symbol stamped onto the front got him even more curious.

Ripping the paper from the box, Harry took his time in eyeing up what lay inside. A golden key ring with various keys on it. Some were big and old looking while others were small and looked to be fairly new. Harry took it in his hands, inspecting each key critically. One key in particular caught his attention, it was small and looked to be quite old made of bronze. It had the most peculiar form of all the keys though, the handle was made of a triangle with a circle in it and a line separating it.

Harry hummed quietly as he turned the key around, watching how the light caught on it. After a while of simply staring at the key Harry seemed to snap out of his trance and lay the key ring on the desk in front of him. "Right," he whispered to himself as he grabbed the box again and took out a folded piece of parchment from the bottom.

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _I have been able to finally collect all the keys for all your vaults. These keys will give you access once you have reached the right age or when you have been emancipated._

 _These are the only pairs in existence at the moment, so you do well not to lose them. Of course, should that be the case, then we will have other ways for you to gain access. We have also included your new trust fund key, as the old key had been made unusable._

 _Under this letter you will also find a list of various estates that you own. We have made from each key that belongs to those certain houses into portkeys so that, should you wish to do so, you can visit and review everything that has been going on in your absence._

 _To activate a certain portkey, you only have to hold the key ring and state which estate you want to go to. We have made precautions that should someone try to use it without you or without your explicit permission, the portkeys won't work._

 _May your gold ever flow, and the blood of your enemies be ever spilt._

 _Gringotts employee and accounts manager,_

 _~ Gornuk_

"Right." Harry said again, scanning the varying names and places on a separate piece of parchment which had been folded inside the letter. "Bulla!"

"What can I do for yous, sirs?" Bulla asked, bowing at his desk. "Please inform the other staff that I'll be gone for the rest of the day, and maybe part of tomorrow too." He said, scanning through the names once again.

"Of course sirs! Anything else, sirs?" Harry hummed, before looking the elf straight in the eyes. It squeaked in surprise, but didn't show any other signs of discomfort. "Yes, would you please bring me something to eat? I'm starving!" Harry ended dramatically, waving his arms around. Bulla smiled brightly, popping away to make something for his master to eat. Master Harry was different from all the other masters he had. Master Harry was special, and Bulla would make sure to protect Master Harry with his life and make him as happy as possible.

~§~FilliusMortis~§~

Apparently, it took better part of the day to visit even a few of his estates and make sure that everything was in order. Harry sighed, looking down at the list again and left Black Manor, which was located in Maine et Loire, France. It did at least explain why the Black family motto was in French Harry thought as he excited the manor. He cast one last look at the magnificent manor and grabbed his key ring. Bracing himself, he stated his next destination "Twelve Grimmauld Place," before he got 'pulled' away.

Landing with a heavy thud on the street, Harry stumbled a bit before he caught himself again, still not very used to travel by portkey. Putting his key ring back in his jacket pocket Harry walked up the small steps which led to the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place. He turned the doorknob which was placed in the middle of the door. He wiggled it around for a bit, but the door remained stubborn and unmovable. Harry glared at it, wondering if he should knock or just blast his way inside. The other estates weren't really locked when he got there. More times than not a horde of house elves greeted him once he stepped inside the wards. He gave the doorknob one last angry jerk, unintentionally sending a bout of magic out his hand and in the door. Harry jumped back in surprise, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He might be great at magic, but when his emotions fluctuated he sometimes lost control and still had bouts of accidental magic.

Harry was shaken from his thoughts and looked up from his hand which he had been staring at to the soft sound of a click from the door. The sound of a lock opening.

"Ha!" Harry crowed in victory, sticking his tongue out at the front door. "Take that, you stupid piece of wood!" A second later he coughed, glancing around him to see if anyone had seen him doing that. What? He was still only nine years old, even if he was a child genius.

Patting his jeans and straightening his jacket he tried to walk as casually as possible back to the front door again. He grabbed the large golden doorknob again, which seemed to glimmer tauntingly at him, and glared at it as he slowly turned the knob around. This time the door clicked open and moved inwards slightly. Harry sighed as he pushed the door further open and stepped into the long hallway.

That was really the only thing he noticed before his ears, oh his poor poor ears, were assaulted by the screaming of a woman.

"Intruder! INTRUDER! Get lost you filthy little THIEF! THIEF!" Harry held his hands over his ears, trying (and failing) to block out the incessant screeching. Why _is this happening?_

It only lasted a few seconds before a house elf popped into existence and was grumbling about. "Nasty brat, standing there as bold as brass. Thinking he can steal from the noble house of Black."

"Kill him Kreacher! Show him what happens to those who try to steal from the Black family! Filth!" The portrait, for that was the thing that was making such a ruckus, continued to scream orders at the house elf and insulting him at the same time. Harry was almost impressed. Almost. Now though, he is mostly getting _annoyed_.

"SHUT. UP!" Harry's scream echoed in the hallway, reverberating off the walls. The sound of glass shattering and walls cracking got dampened by the sheer volume of Harry's voice. A large chandelier which hung overhead further down the hall fell down from the ceiling and shattered on the ground. Glass shards and wood splinters littered the floor as Harry shook with unrestrained anger from his position in front of the still open door. His heavy breathing the only sound in the dead-silent hallway. Kreacher stood, fingers still poised in the air as if he was about to do something drastic (which he probably was.) The lady in the portrait was gaping openly at him, shocked into silence either because he had managed to yell louder than her or because of his display at magic, Harry wasn't sure. But he sure as Hell was happy that she had finally managed to _shut the fuck up_.

He took a long shuddering breath, finally managing to calm his wildly beating heart down. _Damn, but if he isn't going to die of old age, it will because he will get a fucking heart attack one of these days, he's sure._ "Thank you."

Harry looked around at the damage he has made, and smiled sheepishly at the two (technically one) occupants. He turned to the portrait on the wall and gave her a short bow before talking again. "My sincerest apologies for the damage I caused to your home Miss. I just wasn't expecting to be received in such a manner. The least I could do is repair the damage done." He turned back to the hallway and, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, waved his hands around. Slowly all the glass went back to their rightful places, the chandelier flying back to it's rightful position on the ceiling and the cracks repaired themselves.

Harry turned back towards the portrait and the elf standing next to it. "I should probably introduce myself. I am Harry James Potter, current heir of the Black family." He gave another curt bow to both of them and waited for them to reply. It took a few seconds but the woman, Walburga Black the nameplate at the bottom of her painting said, finally answered him. "It's quite alright, boy. You were not the one at fault, I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions." Walburga said, looking down at the small black haired child who seemed to have quite a lot of magical power in him.

"It wasn't your fault Miss. Black. You were, after all, defending your home. I would've done the same thing if a stranger were to enter my house." Walburga smiled at him, this child wasn't so bad. "You may call me Walburga, child."

Harry inclined his head slightly, grinning up at the portrait. "Than I must insist that you call me Harry, Walburga."

"I am curious though Harry," Walburga said after a while of silence where Harry was inspecting his surroundings and Kreacher was looking at Harry almost, dare he think it? _admiringly_. Harry looked up from where he was inspecting a suspicious looking stain on the wall. "How did you become the Black heir? Where is my… _son_ , the current _lord_?" She looked like she had eaten something sour with the way her face pinched when she said the word son and lord in the same sentence. Harry wondered what her child had done to earn such spite from his own mother. But, he wasn't one to judge he supposes. After all his own relatives hated the very air he breathed.

"Hm… I'm not sure what happened, but I do know that he is locked up in Azkaban prison." And wasn't that a surprise for him? Apparently he has a Godfather. Who has been locked up shortly after that one Halloween night. And, surprise surprise, according to the Goblins who he had asked to investigate in the matter once he found out he _had a Godfather_ , Sirius Black never had a trial to begin with.

Harry wasn't sure what to do with that information, but he did know that he wouldn't do anything about it. Well, at least not yet. He first has to cement his position against Dumbledork and make sure no one will ever be able to take advantage of him again. But that won't happen any time soon. If what Bagnok told him was true, and the Ministry or Dumbledore finds out what he is planning before the right time, then he would be almost powerless again. He couldn't have that now does he?

"As he is currently unavailable, and I'm written in his will as his Godson, his possessions are transferred over to me. The current heir." Harry said, tracing a finger over a dresser. He looked at the dust covering his entire finger, grimacing a little. "I also took a heritage test at Gringotts, which showed me that my grandmother was Dorea Potter -néé Black."*

Walburga apparently looked pleased at this news, "Do you have the heir ring, Harry? After all, we Blacks are proud to show who we are." Harry smiled at her, looking slightly sheepish. "I do have the heir ring, sadly I can't wear it yet." She looked surprised at that, "And why can't you wear it, young heir?"

"It isn't quite the _right_ _time_ yet," Harry said, "But I'm planning to be able to wear them openly by the time I have to attend school." Walburga eyed him critically for a little while, before a small smile started to creep on on the corner of her mouth. "I think I understand, Harry. But I must ask, why you haven't done anything about those glasses yet?" Harry simply stared at her, a little bit uncomprehending. "I'm sorry?"

Her eyes narrowed as her perfectly plucked brows furrowed in confusion. "You don't know about a vision repairing potion?" Harry's face fell into a blank stare, as his back straightened. "I wasn't brought up in the wizarding world." Harry ignored the widening of Walburga's eyes or the way Kreacher looked up in interest at Harry. "Someone saw fit to place me into the care of magic hating… _muggles_ once my parents both died while I was only one-year-old. I only found out about the Wizarding World just two weeks ago, and I have been trying to repair the damage done in my absence."

" _Preposterous!"_ Walburga screamed, making Harry wince slightly at the sheer volume this woman can use her voice. "How _dare_ they! Those Blood-traitors! Leaving you in the care of such _Beasts!_ "

"Master had to live with those filthy creatures. Poor Master," Kreacher helpfully added, inspecting Harry for any sort of harm on his person. "It's alright Kreacher, it was a long time ago since they dared to harm me. I made sure to make it clear of the repercussions should they have ever tried again." Harry said softly.

"Good! At least you showed those filthy pigs who was more important!" Harry smiled at Walburga's accurate description of two of the Dursleys. "Harry, I insist that you come to live here. I could use the company." Harry grinned at her. "I would be honoured to stay here in your home, Walburga." He bowed slightly at her.

Walburga waved a hand at him, "No need to, Harry. This house is as much your house now as it was mine." Harry looked around again, grimacing at the drab place. "Though if I am to stay here, it would need a little cleaning and repairing…" he watched a spider scuttling around in the corner by the door. "Maybe a lot of cleaning."

"Yes, sadly the house has been left to almost decline away after it was left unoccupied after my death. Kreacher hadn't been able to keep it in very good state on his own." Walburga said, looking around in dismay. Harry could understand why though, Kreacher wasn't the youngest looking elf Harry had met the last day. "It is such a pity. It used to be a grand place." She looked almost forlornly from her place in the painting, as if she was still seeing the grandeur that was twelve Grimmauld Place. Harry looked at the dilapidated room and tried to imagine what it probably looked like when it was still a glorious place. "Well, then we will just have to set to work then, no?"

"I will start immediately, Master." Kreacher said, already starting with cleaning away some dust.

"Bulla!" said house elf popped into existence next to Harry, bowing at him. "What can Bulla do for yous, sirs?"

"Bulla, I will need help in restoring and cleaning Grimmauld Place so that it will be liveable again. Could you gather a few elves and help organize them?" Bulla nodded his head, large ears flopping slightly as he snapped his fingers and disappeared again.

A few seconds later Bulla with three other house elves appeared before him and immediately set to work. Harry stood to the side, watching the elves make quick work of repairing the wallpaper and removing all the dust, while Walburga was calling out orders from her painting about what had to be put where. Feeling that he was no longer needed in the hall, Harry set to explore the house a bit, as he had only seen the hall up till now.

He walked to the stairs, which were next to Walburga's painting, and slowly, cautiously, started to climb them. The steps creaked ominously once he put his weight on it, dust falling from in-between the wooden planks. The wall was decorated with house-elf heads, which were mounted on plaques. Harry was both grossed out and fascinated by them.

Harry scoured each room on every floor, sometimes finding curious objects which radiated an ominous aura. It gave Harry the fair warning that these objects were cursed. Again he thanked his ability to see magic and aura's.

He was just searching through a room on the topmost landing when something caught his eye. He turned away from the nightstand he had been looking through and walked around the bed to the closet by the far wall. He grabbed the knobs and pulled. The doors rattled slightly, but wouldn't budge any further. Harry frowned slightly, pulling a little harder. Huffing slightly in frustration, he placed his hands on the doors and pushed a bit of his magic into the doors, _willing_ them to open. Perspiration broke out on his brow as he frowned in concentration. Apparently, this door was _very stubborn_. But he wouldn't be Harry Potter if he wasn't more so. Especially when he was curious about something. Smirking slightly in victory, it had taken Harry a good minute to open those damn doors.

There wasn't much inside, a few clothes and other unimportant things were stacked on the planks. Feeling disappointed at the lack of having found _anything_ of value, Harry was about to close the doors, thinking about grabbing some dinner perhaps in Potter Manor when he saw it. On the highest plank of the closet was a small ornate box. Harry looked at it for a second before he placed a foot on one of the planks in the closet testing his weight on it. Hearing it creak ominously, Harry quickly retracted his foot glaring at the box. It seemed to almost taunt him with it's high place. Harry was still smaller than the average nine-year-old, and the box seemed to almost know it.

He glanced around the room, looking for a chair or _anything_ he can use as a stand. He was contemplating a pretty big suitcase which stood off in the corner when a thought suddenly struck him, making him want to hit his head at his own stupidity. _How_ the Hell could he _forget_. Wow, He was such an idiot at times.

He turned back to the top shelf and stretched out a hand. He could feel his magic coming to life beneath his fingertips and just _willed_ it to retrieve that box. A second later it flew within his awaiting hands and Harry grinned down at it.

He looked it slowly over, watching the various carvings on it. It appeared to be made of gold, with silver lining. It looked like a music box, one which Petunia used to wind up for her Duddykins. There was no wind-up hole in this one though, so it could be something else like a jewellery box. It was a beautiful thing, but not what Harry was after.

No, Harry was far more curious about what it contained within. He can _feel_ it thrumming beneath his fingertips, as if it _knew_ he was there just out of hand reach. He wanted to know what was inside. _Needed_ to find out.

So with that thought Harry walked back over towards the bed and sat down on the sheets, dust rising up as he did so. He fingered the lid one last time before shrugging, as if to say ' _oh what the Hell, you only live once'_ , and opening the box.

It appeared he had been right in his first assumption about it being a music box. Soft music filled the room, a lullaby which calmed Harry almost immediately. He had expected to be shocked or poisoned at the very least but this was a nice surprise.

Harry began to smile, eyes falling half-mast. _This is very nice indeed…_ Suddenly all he wanted to do was lie down, close his eyes and _sleep_. Forget about Dumbledork and his stupid manipulations. Forget about his studies. About always being better and the bullies.

 _Sleep sure sounded nice…_ Forget about his responsibilities in the Wizarding World. About being the Boy-Who-Lived.

 _Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a few seconds… no one would mind, right? Right…_ Forget about House-elves and Goblins and Godfathers who are locked away. Forget about stupid music boxes located on the highest of places.

 _Just a few seconds, nothing more…_ Forget about mysterious things locked away in boxes, hoping no one would ever find it again.

 _Just… forget…_

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The box.

His eyes which had slowly been drifting close snapped open in sudden alarm. He sat up from where he had been lying on the bed (When did he lie down anyway?) and looked wildly around him. Panicked green eyes landed on the gold music box standing on the nightstand (He didn't remember putting it away?) quickly snatched it up. Music was still playing from it, and he could already feel it's effect creeping up on him. Blinking heavily he pinched his arm at a certain wave of drowsiness and shocked himself aware again, if only for a few seconds. He snatched the clothed item that lay inside and quickly slammed the lid of the music box shut.

He groaned, relieved and elated that the spell was over. He didn't know what would've happened had he fallen asleep, but he was glad it didn't happen. He dropped back down on the bed with a huff, coughing slightly as he breathed in some dust. Oh, he was so going to shower once this was all done. He felt like a walking, talking pile of dirt.

Harry glared at the box as he held it up so he can stare at it whilst lying down. "You're causing me a lot of trouble; you know that?" He huffed slightly. He blindly sat it down on the nightstand next to his head. He held up his other hand, inspecting the cloth being held together by a piece of string.

"You better be something good or so help me…" Harry muttered angrily, starting to work on the knot of the string. What? Oh come on, don't look at him like that! So what if he was talking to an inanimate object? He almost died just now okay?! (Okay... maybe not necessarily _die_ … but it came close, okay! He's nine, he's allowed to exaggerate things!)

Harry was sitting up now, having almost gotten the knot loose when a house-elf appeared in the room. Harry startled so bad he almost fell off the bed. "What the-!" luckily for him, the nightstand was stronger that it looked.

"Mellis is so sorry for shocking yous, sir! Mellis didn't mean to, sir! It won't happen again sir! Mellis promises!" The house-elf continued to bow and apologise, beating itself over the head with a fist.

"Hey-hey-hey, Mellis, what did I tell you all about beating yourselves up over a mistake?" Harry asked, righting his position on the bed. He looked down at the clothed thing still in his hand before he shoved it in his pocket. He would look at it later, he promised himself.

"Not to do it, sir?" Mellis asked almost timidly, voice barely above a whisper.

"Right!" Harry said calmly, giving the elf a small smile. "And what did I say about popping into the room?"

"To…" Harry nodded encouragingly at her, giving a sweet smile. "To announce our presence first so as to not startle yous…" She started out strong before slowly ending In a whisper. "I'm very sorry sir! It won't–"

"Mellis,"

Mellis looked up at Harry, her ears drooped and eyes sad as she wrung her tunic between her hands, creating more creases in it than there already were. Harry simply continued to smile reassuringly at her. Mellis was probably one of the youngest house-elves he had. "It's alright, mistakes can happen. You just have to make sure that you won't make them again, no?" Harry grinned at her, patting her on the head as he had slowly knelled in front of her whilst she was apologising for the second time. Her bright brown eyes cleared from her unshed tears as she nodded happily at Harry, feeling so very lucky to have such a kind and sweet master.

"Now, tell me why you've come here." Harry said as he slowly began to stand again.

"Oh! I was told to tell master Harry that dinner is ready for yous sir! It is being served at the kitchen." Mellis said excitedly, almost bouncing on her heels.

Harry laughed softly, the soft bel-like sound calming Mellis instantly and filling her with such joy! "Alright, tell them I'll come down soon. I just have to put something away first."

"Aye, sir!" And she was gone the next second.

Harry sighed as he looked at the music box sitting oh-so innocently on the nightstand. Faintly he wondered what it could be that someone would go to such extremes to hide something away. He felt in his pocket, fingering the cloth wrapped around the mysterious package as he stared absently in front of him. A few seconds later he shook himself out of his daze and, snatching the music box up, Harry put it away where he found it.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

 *** I know that it was revealed by JKR that this was not the case, but as this is still a fanfic, I can do what I want.**

 **Leave some love by pressing the button down below**


	6. Chapter 5

**It's a fairly short chapter, but I updated it pretty fast! I'm so proud of myself right now. XD**

 **Anyways, We're well on our way to 400 followers! Damn, you guys are frickin' awesome!**

 **Also, we've gone over 11.000 views with only 5 chapters and Filius Mortis has been added to 3 community archives! Is that a lot?**

 **Lavonya, BellaLove14, Guest, Miyu Kokomi, JJFicFreak, marbe101, trueimpa, FoxKat, NightAngel99, lightwalnut64, Of Stories Told, davycrockett100 and imaqt16:** Thank you all for commenting on the latest chapter! It always makes my day to read such lovely reviews!

 **TamiLOve:** Haha, I'm glad you're enjoying it so far! And I know Death isn't much in the story yet, but don't worry. It will come, it may take a bit, but we're already pretty far underway. As I have a reason for why Death hasn't made any further appearances yet, but I won't spoil you by telling you what, or when it will happen. Where would be the fun in that, no?

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, and I never will. I only own this story, which is to say not much.

 **Warnings:** Slash in later chapters! Plotting, politics, raising the dead, A bit of Dumbledore bashing (Maybe a lot), A little bit of Weasley bashing (Not sure though…), Cussing and OC's

 **Beta:** Un-beta'ed (as usual)

 **Previously:**

"Twelve Grimmauld Place!"

~§~

"Get lost you filthy little THIEF!"

~§~

"I should probably introduce myself. I am Harry James Potter, current heir of the Black family."

~§~

"I would be honoured to stay here in your home."

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

Chapter 5

"People don't want to hear the truth, because they don't want their illusions destroyed." ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

Tense silence filled the air, surrounding the occupants as they sat in the drawing room of the Black family home. An old grandfather clock broke the silence as it chimed, the soft notes reverberating off the walls and into the halls below. Harry watched his guest as he calmly blew at a cup of steaming hot tea to make it drinkable without burning his tongue. He took a small sip of the beverage and placed the cup on the low coffee table seated between them.

Bagnok, who was seated next to him on the couch shuffled around with some parchment in a thick manila folder, which he had taken out of a small briefcase the Goblin seemed to carry with him wherever he went. Bagnok took out two pieces of parchment and laid them out on the table, two long fingers slowly sliding it forward toward the third occupant in the room who was slowly drinking from their own teacup.

"Thank you for taking the time to come and take a look at Mr. Potters case, Madam, we very much appreciate it." The soft clinking of a teacup being set on the hard-wooden table was heard as the middle-aged witch elegantly took the two pieces of parchment in her hand and skimmed over them before she turned back to the Goblin and the child seated silently next to it.

Harry just continued to watch silently from his place, waiting for what was about to be a _very_ interesting piece of the play.

"I was very much… _surprised_ at receiving your letter, Bagnok." Her navy blue eyes flickered over to Harry, interest and intrigue shining in them. "Of course I have to validate your claims, as they are very serious accusations on one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot." She picked up her teacup again, stirring it slightly with a small silver spoon before taking a sip. "I take those accusations very seriously, as it would mean Albus has abused the power given to him in the trust that he would use it correctly and responsibly. It would also mean that he has wronged you greatly, Mr. Potter, and knowingly left you with Muggles, who were unfit to care for you, without once checking up on you and using the title as your Magical guardian for his own gain, without your knowledge of the seats you possess at the Wizengamot, even as an heir."

Harry didn't say anything as she addressed him, knowing that it was unneeded to confirm what she already knew. They only had to validate it. Give proof of what happened in his years with the Dursley's. Luckily, he was living evidence of what they had done to him when he was younger. Once they had a pensieve, it would only be a simple matter of showing what had happened to him in the Dursley's loving care. And luckily for Harry, it was easy enough to leave out certain…- _events_ he didn't want anyone to be privy to. As Harry was still a minor (and would be one for a while), no one could force him to take veritaserum. But even if someone _did_ manage to convince the Wizengamot to let him take a small dose of the truth serum, it was easy enough to bypass the effects. If one simply knew how to.

"So you must understand, Mr. Potter." The witch continued, as she slowly set her empty cup down on the table again. She looked directly at Harry, all her attention on him now that she was addressing him directly. A small crease formed between her plucked brows as she gave the child in front of her a severe look. Trying to convey the seriousness of the situation to a nine-almost ten-year old kid. "That there will be a lot of people who will want to stop you from succeeding.

"Most certainly Albus Dumbledore himself. He would lose a lot of his power if you managed to gain your titles and are allowed to use the seats in his stead."

Harry gave the witch a small, knowing smile. "We already came to that conclusion, Madam," Harry indicated towards the Goblin seated next to him who was watching everything with sharp eyes. "We already thought up a plan to gain back most of my power by the time I enter Hogwarts. And if all goes as planned, Dumbledore won't know until it is already too late."

"And how, pray tell, are you planning on doing this?" Harry gave a slow grin over the teacup he was holding up to his mouth.

Navy blue clashed with Avada green, a silent conversation passed between them. Neither one was going to back down anytime soon as one tried to dominate the other in their silent argument. After a full minute where the only sound permeating the air was their even breathing and the soft tick-tacking of the old grandfather clock as the large brass pendulum swung from left to right in a hypnotizing manner, hanging on the far wall next to the grand piano. Kreacher could be heard from the kitchens two floors down, making a midday snack for his Master and his guests. Sunshine streaked from the long windows, trailing a slow path around the room as it slowly began to set.

"I think," She continued to stare at Harry, the corners of her mouth twitching under the strain it took for her not to outright smile in that moment. "That you can count on me, Mr. Potter." This time she didn't even try to keep the smile off her face, as she watched Harry beam up at her, bouncing up and down from his place on the couch.

" _Brilliant!_ "

 _Such a sweet and excitable child,_ she thought as she gazed fondly at the Potter heir, being reminded of her own little niece. At that exact moment, she knew that she had made the right decision.

Harry gave her another bright grin before he turned towards the Goblin next to him and started discussing what their next course of action would be regarding her.

 _Yes_ , Amelia thought. _Albus is in for some Hell._

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

After they had talked for the rest of the day, certified their claims and accusations, and convinced Madam Bones to accept a binding magical contract between them so she wouldn't tell anyone about what had transpired this day. Harry was finally done for the day and, exhaustion weighing down on him, almost slumped up the stairs and exhaustedly went to his bed in one of the bedrooms on the topmost landing of the house.

It had been about a month and a half since he came to live here in Grimmauld Place. And Harry was quite happy he had made that decision. After a week of cleaning out the house and repairing what could be salvaged and replacing what was too damaged to safe, Harry finally got to sleep here. He had chosen a room on the highest floor. Walburga had told him that they had belonged to her two sons. One who is dead and the other who was estranged and is now stuck in Azkaban prison. Harry loved his new room. It was just big enough for him and had an amazing view over the small streets of London from his window.

After two days, Harry had started searching for the library he was sure had to be in the house. But as he hadn't found it when he had first explored it a week ago, Harry was sure it was carefully hidden somewhere in the ancient house. He felt around with his magic, scanning each and every room until he came upon a wall on the second floor hall which seemed to pulsate once his magic graced it.

Harry had placed his hands on the wall, feeling around for some sort of hidden door. The wall was smooth, not a single bump in the wallpaper. "Bloody Hell, I know you're there…"

Placing his hands on the wall again he gave an experimental shove. The wall remained unmoving and Harry angrily pushed some of his magic in it. For a second Harry thought it had worked as he stepped back, grinning slightly. But the moment he stepped away, he could see his magic gathering and was promptly blasted backwards into a door of one of the bedrooms on the floor.

The door slammed open under his weight and the force of the blast and Harry was promptly deposited on the floor, blinking stupidly up at the ceiling.

"-Son of a Banshee, boy! What were you doing?! Don't lie so stupidly on the floor!" The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black scolded him from his chair. Harry winced slightly as he sat up, rubbing his back. Phineas watched as Harry slowly got up, seeing Harry's face go from confusion, to understanding before finally settling on annoyance. Phineas smirked at the scowl Harry was sporting, understanding dawning on him as he understood what Harry had done, or better said; the lack thereof.

"You were trying to get into the library, were you not, _boy_?" Harry glowered angrily at the old man, getting more ticked off by the minute. "You know; this is precisely why I loathe young people! You always think you are so great and can do _anything_ without any consequences! I hope you have learned your lesson, _child_!"

" _Oh,_ do _shut up."_ Harry hissed out, wiping dust from his clothes and straightening them out.

He only looked up once there was no reaction from the cranky old man. Seeing the man staring at him with surprised, wide eyes, Harry frowned in confusion at the paining.

"What?" he snapped, raising a questioning eyebrow. Maybe the old fart had finally snapped, or something... Harry mostly avoided this room, as Phineas' painting sleeps here more often than not. Apparently, Phineas Black has little patience for people and especially young people. So Harry had made it his job to steer clear of the room after Phineas had demeaned him more times in one sentence than anyone ever before had done. Harry had thought Vernon could've learned something from the man as he was vocally abused by a painting. He had been very surprised that he had stood there in the room, gaping dumbly at it before he had snapped out of it and quickly shimmied out the door.

"You- you're… but you _can't_ be!" Phineas stammered- _Actually_ _stammered!_ -at him.

"What?"

"Impossible! Simply impossible!" Phineas shook his head, obviously trying to deny something very hard. Harry hoped the loon would snap his own neck with the force he shook it. Not that paintings could die or anything… _Can_ you kill a painting? You could probably burn it, but the paintings could still hop from one frame to the other so it would be kind of pointless… unless you could trap the paintings inside their frames, of course. Hmm… maybe he should test this theory out… Harry thought as he gazed speculatively at the man still rambling on.

"-probably a fluke! It has to be, because you can't be- "

" _What?!_ " Harry hissed out, not even noticing he's talking in an entirely different language. "I can't be what?!" Phineas fell silent again, gazing at Harry for a full minute before finally speaking again. He motioned with his hand for Harry to come closer. Eyes narrowing in suspicion Harry did so very reluctantly.

"I will tell you how to gain access to the Black library," Phineas said firmly. Harry's eyebrows disappeared in his hairline at that sudden exclamation, surprised and even more suspicious than before. Wide green eyes quickly narrowed and Harry took a small step back. "Why should I trust you?"

Phineas huffed in exasperation, sounding quite affronted as he waved Harry over again and said that he couldn't harm Harry even if he wanted to. Harry wasn't quite reassured but did as he was told. Harry could hear the old man whisper under his breath; "No respect for his elders…" but Harry chose to ignore it, as he wanted this to be over as soon as possible so he could get inside the library he was a one hundred percent sure was behind that wall.

"Now," Phineas began once Harry was close enough. "You had probably tried to force it open with the help your magic, were you not?" Harry remained silent. "Yes, that wouldn't have done you any good. As I am sure you have discovered by now, hm?" Phineas looked far too smug at that bit of information in Harry's opinion. "The Black library is an old one, and is one of the more heavily warded places the Blacks have in possession. Over the years we Blacks have accumulated a lot of ancient tomes and artefacts, some which most people thinks has been lost with the time. So you might understand why we would ward this so heavily." Harry listened attentively, intrigued by the prospect of reading such books. "Not even all our family members know of this room, this knowledge is only passed down to the head of the family."

Phineas looked at Harry for a long time as Harry finally processed the implications of what he had said. Harry opened his mouth to ask something, but Phineas shook his head, asking him to wait just a moment longer. "The current Ministry has banned and labelled a lot of those books and artefacts as 'Dark', and it would get you in a lot of trouble if someone were to discover it was there. Now tell me Harry," it was the first time Phineas had used his name instead of 'boy' or 'child'. Harry had to admit it was a little weird to hear his name so suddenly.

"What do you think of the concept of Light and Dark magic?"

"Well…" Harry crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at the ceiling to thinks for a moment. "I wouldn't say there is such a thing as 'Light' or 'Dark' magic out there."

"it's all about the intent of the user." Harry started to pace around, something he sometimes likes to do when he's thinking. "Take for example the severing charm, it is a fairly simple spell and could be used by anyone with the right wand control. You can find this charm in the most basic of books about housekeeping, something even a child could learn. The Ministry has labelled this charm as 'Light', for it is mostly used for cutting vegetables or clothes that need mending. But..."

Harry stopped his pacing to look at the painting again, where Phineas was silently listening. "-put enough power behind the spell, and you could use it to severely harm or even kill someone by simply aiming at their neck." He gave the painting a small, sadistic smile. "The same could be said about 'Dark' magic. From what I have read in the books about the current laws and legislations, they also ban a lot of spells or practises simply because the ministry has no way of monitoring them.

"For example, blood magic is considered Dark, no?" At receiving a nod, Harry continued. "But blood magic can also be used to ward or strengthen your wards around your house."

"So, I don't think that there is such a thing as 'Light' and 'Dark'. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it."

It was silent for a while, Harry standing defiantly in the middle of the room, and Phineas sitting in his chair. Phineas suddenly threw his head back and laughed, a deep and raspy sound. Harry startled, thinking the man _really_ _has_ gone bonkers. It took a while for Phineas to calm down again, Harry slowly edging towards the door again. Taking a deep breath, Phineas finally turned back towards harry again. "Ah, I haven't laughed like that in all my life! I should thank you for that, Harry Potter, the boy who lived!"

Harry stopped where he was standing, which was next to the small single bed situated by the door.

"You know of me?"

"Know of you? Everyone in the Wizarding World knows of you and how you vanquished one of the strongest Dark Lords in centuries, silly child! Of course I would know of you!" Phineas laughed again, but this time Harry had the feeling it was at his expense.

Harry frowned, "But Walburga and Kreacher didn't seem to know about me…"

"Ah, that's because they don't have the advantage that _I_ have." Phineas pointed out smugly. "As a former Headmaster of Hogwarts, I have a frame hanging in the Headmaster's office where I can go to whenever is needed. I have garnered a lot of information in my time there, and the present Headmaster tends to mutter about his plans as he paces around the office. He has muttered about you once or twice. _That's at least one positive aspect about being a Headmaster, those snot-nosed brats and their whining and…_ " Phineas mumbled, seeming to be lost in memories of his time as a Headmaster. Phineas coughed, composing himself before continuing again. "Walburga is stuck in her own frame, as she doesn't have the capacity to travel towards another frame outside her own house, meaning that her knowledge of the recent happenings in the Wizarding World would be sorely lacking. And about the House-elf, well it's a house-elf. They don't go outside much. And when they do it's only on their Masters orders."

Harry could only stare at the man in the painting. Phineas Nigellus Black was a well of information, and could be very useful on his side or very detrimental to him if the old man decided to tell Dumbledore about him. Shit. Everything he is working towards would fall in shatters around him if that were to happen. He can't let this happen. No, he _won't_ let this happen! _Shit. shit shit shiiiit-_

"You don't have to worry about me. If I wanted to tell Dumbledore about you, I would've done so the moment I knew you were here."

Harry's nerves calmed down somewhat, but didn't leave entirely.

"if you have a frame in the Headmasters office, why are you here then?" Harry demanded, green eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion as he gazed up at the paintings face.

"I do like my rest, you know. And there is no place better than here, where it's calm and quiet." He eyed Harry after he said this. "Well, with the exception of today, of course."

" _Of course_ ," Harry had mumbled. "Why are you even telling me this?"

Phineas looked blankly at him, before a small smirk graced the old man face. "Maybe because I see a lot of potential in you, or maybe because I'm simply growing old. Who knows?"

Harry scowled at the non-answer, but let it go for now.

"But you must understand why I find this so funny." Harry raised a simple questioning eyebrow in response. "Can you imagine it? The Boy Who Lived, the Saviour of the Wizarding World, not a Light poster boy! Hah! I can't wait to see when Dumbledore finds out!" Phineas bellowed, shaking his head as laughter spilled past his lips. Harry could feel his own mouth involuntarily twitch up in a small smirk, understanding why it could be so funny for certain people like Phineas.

"Haa, but enough of that now. I was telling you how to get into the library. Listen carefully and listen well, because I will tell you only once." Luckily, Harry had amazing memory and so listened attentively as Phineas spoke. Once the painting was done, Harry simply bowed and murmured a quiet thank you before turning to leave the room.

"Oh and Harry," Harry turned back, door handle in hand. "If you are ever in need of help or need certain information, all you have to do is ask." He gave a sharp nod and strode out the door. Once Harry was outside, he let a cold smirk grace his lips.

He had a library to discover.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

 _The library had been absolutely_ magnificent. Harry thought as he strode up the last steps towards his room. _And Phineas tells when something of interest happens at Hogwarts, which is certainly handy._

He let himself fall facedown on the bed, groaning into the pillow. His bed shook from the force and bumped into the bedside table placed next to his head. Something hard fell on his head, and Harry's pained yelp was muffled into his pillow. He let himself roll over and felt under him with a hand for the thing that was digging in his back.

He came back up victoriously, holding up an object covered in red cloth, held together by a piece of string. Huh. He had forgotten all about that. In the chaos that was this last month, Harry had placed it on his bedside table to examine later. Apparently, he had forgotten about it entirely. Pushed back from the forefront of his mind by exploring the library, planning and scheming with the Goblins and taking care of his other estates, his subconscious mind had apparently found this to be less important to focus on than everything else that was going on.

Plucking absentmindedly on the piece of string, Harry gave a silent shrug and started to loosen the knot.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

 **I'm Evil aren't I? Anyway! Tell me what you think.**

 **Leave some love by pressing the button down below**


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 is up! Oh boy, I feel so bad for writing this chapter. And no I won't tell you why right now, I guess you guys just have to read to find out.**

Leave a review! It's always nice for a writer to read about what you think about their story.  
Don't be afraid to leave any constructive criticism or what you expect to happen in the future chapters. It can help a writer to get motivated to write, or give them inspiration. So don't worry, I won't bite. XD

We've _**almost**_ reached 100 reviews guys! WHOO! Come on! Let's make the 100 this time!

 **Oh wow, we went over 400 follows and are well on our way to 300 favs! We've gone over 15000 views and Filius Mortis has been added to another community archive, making it 4 in total! I'm still not sure if that's a lot… but I'm so excited!**

 **Trainreader, trueimpa, Guest, marbe101, crankypants16, kitayalera, lightwalnut64, TangledPencils, kat4love, Miyu Kokomi, bloodyredfox, Charlie095, davycrockett100, Yana5 and Fae0306:** Thank you guys for leaving a comment on the last chapter! You guys are all awesome!

 **Of Stories Told:** I'm glad you liked it! I wasn't very sure how to paint Phineas' character at first, but he is a Slytherin. I eventually just went with what felt right.

The library will make its appearance eventually, and you're going to find out what it was in this chapter!

 **MirrorShard:** Where did you go?! XD I got kind of worried when there were no more reviews after the third chapter. But, even though there is a chance you won't see this, I want to thank you that you took the time to leave those reviews! They give me insight of things I might've missed and can use it for future reference. It's always interesting for me to read about what the readers think and leave their own opinions on the story in a review.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, and I never will. I only own this story, which is to say not much. I also don't own the cover image, I only edited it some.

 **Warnings:** Slash in later chapters! Plotting, politics, raising the dead, violence, character death, animal deaths (oh god I felt so bad for doing this), A bit of Dumbledore bashing (Maybe a lot), A little bit of Weasley bashing (Not sure though…), Cussing and OC's

 **Beta:** This chapter is Beta-ed by the lovely Anki, who took the time to proof read and find any mistakes I made. Thank you hun, for taking the time!

 **Previously:**

"Thank you for taking the time to come and take a look at Mr. Potters case."

~§~

"You can count on me,"

~§~

"You always think you are so _great_ ,"

~§~

"But you _can't_ be!"

~§~

"You know of me?"

~§~

"If you are ever in need of help, all you have to do is ask."

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

Chapter 6

"Every great story seems to begin with a snake." ~ Nicolas Cage

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

From the moment a four-year-old Harry heard a small, green garden snake hissing about food and a nest, Harry knew that it wasn't normal. Animals weren't supposed to be able to speak, the neighbour's cats can't talk after all and his aunt had said so to Dudley after he had asked her. Dudley had wanted a talking cat like James the Cat he had seen on the small television they had. Petunia had said it was impossible, as animals can't speak and distracted Dudley from throwing a tantrum by giving him some sweets.

So Harry, with all his childish logic, concluded that this snake was _special_ and got intrigued by it.

Since that moment, he watched the small garden snake as it slithered between the bushes of number four and number six Privet Drive while Harry was working around in the garden. He simply watched and listened, as the snake complained about it's food, the British weather or humans in general. Harry found it amusing what the snake said most of the time and couldn't contain the giggles as they bubbled up in his throat. His aunt had given him a few odd looks when she was nearby, and Harry had had to cover his mouth with both hands to muffle the sounds he was making. He didn't want his aunt to find out about what the snake was saying about them after all.

It was almost a week later when the snake finally started talking about him.

" _Sstupid two-legger, alwayss watching me. Chasing away all the good food, never bringing any."_ It watched Harry for a moment, probably contemplating a thought. _"Two-legger wouldn't make a very good ssnack. Too little meat, just like those ssmall birds. Too many ssmall boness."_ Harry had blinked at it for a moment, before replying to it that it wasn't his fault that there wasn't any good food around for the snake. The reptile had startled so bad that, if it had had legs, it would have stumbled. But, as it didn't have any legs to fall over them, it simply reared up sharply, staring back at Harry with unblinking yellow eyes. They had a stare-down for a few minutes, before Harry's eyes started to water and he had to blink, breaking the staring contest that they had been in (or Harry thought so at least.)

" _A Ssspeaker_ ,"

Harry blinked at it, tilting his head in confusion. " _What?"_

The snake continued to stare at Harry, apparently intrigued. It seemed to contemplate something, and just as Harry thought it would say something very smart, " _Do you have any mice?"_ Harry shot into a string of giggles. _"Yess, a big fat juicy mouse. One who'ss sstill alive. I like it when they sstruggle, it'ss more fun to kill them that way."_ The snake continued, ignoring the toddler who, by now, had fallen to the ground trying to contain his laughter again. His aunt was inside, and would come to investigate what was going on if she were to hear him. If she saw that Harry wasn't doing his chores, it would mean going back to his cupboard without any dinner that night for him. Harry didn't want that. He didn't like being hungry. It was painful and it gave him stomach-aches.

After a short while Harry was finally able to contain his laughter, a few stray giggles still slipping between his lips as he sat up again. The small green snake was still hissing about food, its body wriggling around in eagerness. Harry had the strange thought that it was almost drooling. _"Sorry, but sadly I don't have any mice in my pockets."_ The snake seemed to deflate a little, its body stilling and its head almost drooping. Harry, scared that he had upset his small friend, (he had decided that the snake had become his friend, his _first ever_ friend!) quickly tried to rectify the situation. He didn't want to lose his friend so quickly! _"I might be able to get you a cat though!"_

Its mood seemed to brighten almost immediately, hissing meaninglessly in pleasure.

Harry smiled brightly, the snake's cheerfulness contaminating him. He held out his hand, the small snake slithering inside his too big second-hand T-shirt and circled itself around his arm. A small triangular head peeked out of Harry's collar and settled itself down. Harry giggled slightly as the snakes forked tongue grazed his neck, tickling him in the process.

Harry set off, leaving behind the few garden tools he was allowed to use. He knew exactly where to find a cat around Privet Drive. Mrs. Figgs probably wouldn't notice if there were one or two cats missing anyways.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

Ever since then, the snake came back almost every day the entire summer long. Staying with Harry when he was working around in the garden to keep him company, and if the weather was too bad to be outside Harry would sneak Emerald inside the house and bring him to his cupboard, where they would talk until Harry fell asleep, too exhausted to continue.

Emerald, as he had named it, became Harry's best (and only) friend. It hadn't known much, just that Harry was a 'speaker'. Harry had asked how it knew, and what a 'speaker' actually was, but the snake just said that it did and that it didn't know how Harry was able to speak snake. They spoke mostly about irrelevant things. Harry liked to think up stories about flying brooms and men that could change into dogs and brightly dressed robes. Of beams of light and odd sticks. He would tell them as they lay in the dark cupboard, small spiders crawling up the walls and over them, Emerald curled up on his chest.

And Harry would hiss softly the, what he had dubbed, bedtime stories (of course he didn't know that it was not simply his imagination and actually memories of a time most won't ever remember.) Those times Harry spend with Emerald, holed up in his cupboard or laying in the grass hidden behind the shed, were the most precious and happiest moments of his, admittedly, short life.

Sadly, their friendship didn't last very long, because but a month later his aunt was walking by the open kitchen window where Harry was tending to a few Geraniums in the garden whilst speaking with his small friend. Petunia had screamed, causing Vernon to stumble into the kitchen with heavy footsteps and a red-tinged face.

Harry had dropped the small rake from his hand, startled by his aunt, with the small snake still sitting next to him between the flowerbeds.

"What's wrong?" Vernon had demanded, looking around wildly with his hands raised in meaty fists. Petunia had stuttered something about 'hissing' and 'snake' before pointing outside the kitchen window, towards Harry's direction.

Harry sat frozen on the ground, the small hark lies forgotten on the ground. Not a second later realisation crashed into him like a tidal wave, making his breath catch in his throat as he turned wide, emerald eyes onto his snake-companion. He had wanted to scream at it, shout for it to _Hide_! But it was already too late. Before he had the time to utter a single word Vernon came stamping out the backdoor, a large steel ladle clutched between meaty hands which were easily the same size as Harry's head.

He had sat, numbly staring at the scene unfold. Harry had known he had to do something. _Anything_. To save his friend from a gruesome death. But he couldn't move. It was like he was rooted to the ground. Held down by some invisible force. Maybe it was his brain telling him it was too late already, that he could do nothing anyway. Maybe it was the look in his uncle's eyes. Or maybe it was because he was simply _scared_.

 _He couldn't move._

The steel gleamed in the sunlight as it was raised high in the air, shining tauntingly in Harry's face. Emerald, having sensed the danger it had been in, was slithering as fast as it could away from the bushes it was in and towards the tall hedges dividing the property from one house to the next. With a heavy swing, the ladle came down on Emerald's small, pencil-thin body. Harry could hear the loud crack of bones snapping and Emerald's hisses of pain filling the air, as it snapped at Vernon's sock-clad feet.

 _He couldn't_ move _!_

Vernon had stumbled back, before going purple in the face and stomping back towards the garden-snake. Vernon had brought the ladle down again, but this time on the snake's triangular head. Its body wriggled around for a few seconds more before laying completely still.

Vernon had stepped back with a self-satisfied look on his face before turning towards Harry who still sat petrified on the grass, staring at his once-alive friend. "Go clean that up boy!" was hollered at him before the loud stamping of Vernon faded away into the house. It had taken Harry a good ten minutes before he could move again, and once he did it felt as if his limps were being weighed down by a ton of bricks. He could've been holding his breath for just as long as well with how he started to gasp in shaky breaths.

He had slowly and shakily crawled towards his friend through the grass, not minding the blood he was getting on his hands and clothes. He didn't care, even if his aunt was going to give him an earful later on. He was simply too weak right now to stand up.

Harry finally reached where his small friend lay, limp and bloodied on the ground. A choked sob tore past his lips as he cradled the limp form close to his chest, body shaking in suppressed sobs so he wouldn't alert his family who could still hear him from inside.

"E-Emerald. Please wake up." Harry croaked, shaking his head from side to side. Emerald couldn't be gone. He was his first _friend_! "wake up, wake up. _Get up!"_ And as if a magic spell had been lifted, Emerald started to stir again. Bright green eyes widened in surprise and amazement, as Harry looked down at the snake. He hadn't expected to see what he did.

It was still branded vividly in his memories. In these moments he had wanted to curse his eidetic memory (or what he assumed is an eidetic memory, as he was never tested on such things.) He had nightmares for weeks about his one and only friend, losing more sleep than was healthy for a growing boy. Blood had been everywhere, brain matter hanging outside a hole by Emerald's left eye. Its other eye had been intact, yellow and bloodshot, staring straight at Harry.

Harry, scared by seeing his small friend in such a way, had dropped the snake on the ground. With a wet squelch it landed on the grass. Emerald stayed upright, swaying from side to side with his lower jaw hanging open (as it was probably broken in more places than one.) Blood was slowly dripping down to the ground, the only sound left was that of the wind blowing through the leaves and the pitter- patter of thick drops of blood hitting the ground. Harry didn't dare breathe, afraid something bad would happen if he did.

"E-Emerald?" There was no response. "Emerald?" Harry tried again, but the snake was simply staring at him, as if awaiting an order or command to fulfil. "C'mon Emerald, this isn't funny anymore."

He took in a breath, which sounded more like a wheeze than anything else. Harry could feel his hands still shaking, and he had the feeling they wouldn't stop anytime soon.

"Emerald! Stop it! _Please!"_

The snake never responded, its strings had been cut. An empty husk left behind in the world. Big tears fell down pale cheeks as Harry cried silently for his lost friend. No birds were singing, utter silence fell down on Little Whinging as dark, ominous clouds gathered overhead.

" _Stop it!"_

As Harry uttered those words, the mangled body of Emerald limply fell down to the ground. It didn't get up again. A heavy sob racked Harry's body, as he reached with shaking hands towards the small snake and took him into his arms again. He sat there, with Emerald in his lap, crying harder and harder each second that passed. Finally, he threw his head back, his face illuminated in the flash of lightning striking a tree and leaving the smell of burning wood and a tree on fire, and screamed, a loud, pained wail drowned out by thunder clapping at the same time.

Harry didn't notice the figure standing in the far corner of the garden, under the burning tree. Its cloak billowed as the wind started to howl and rain began to pelt down on the streets. It raised its arm, the one not holding the large scythe, and held it in front of its hooded face. A small green snake was twined around his bony arm and fingers, forked tongue poking in and out of the snake's mouth as they looked at the scene in front of them.

The storm held on for the rest of the summer, never once letting up.

People had started to notice the unusual weather, odd even for Britain, and had started to call it a freak storm.

Nature was mourning the death of a small garden snake together with a toddler of four years old.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

Small fingers traced the delicate serpentine S inlaid with glittering green stones of the locket held snuggly within the palm of his hand. He hadn't thought about Emerald in a long time. Mostly because it was a traumatizing event for a small child, to see their friend getting killed in front of their eyes, no matter if they were an animal or not. He had repressed the events, and buried them deep within his head in hopes of never thinking of it again. It had been a self-defence mechanism, so he wouldn't get hurt more than he already had. He knew it was the locket that had instigated the painful memories and brought them up from whatever dark hole in his mind he had put them away.

Harry sighed, shaking his head from any lingering thoughts and focused back on the ornament held in his hand. He held it up from the silver chain and brought it to his eyes. It turned in slow circles, the S seemed to move within as it caught the last remnants of sunlight as the sun went down. Harry stared, intrigued, as it slithered in its place. It wasn't hard to visualize it as a minuscule snake.

He could feel the magic pulsating even when he wasn't touching it. It fluctuated evenly, giving the impression of a heartbeat thumping leisurely.

Harry was wary of opening it though, as he could practically _see_ the dark magic oozing out of it. It was a dark purple, almost black in colour and in all the years Harry had been able to see auras, this one was by far the darkest. Most people only had a dark or black glow surrounding it, tainting it. But never had he seen something entirely made out of such dark colours. Harry almost felt sorry for the person this life-force was from. And he knew it was imbedded with someone's life-force, or soul. It felt the same as the moving portraits downstairs.

Harry had at first been confused about the portraits, after all _how_ could an inanimate object give off an aura on its own? No matter how weak the aura was, it was still an aura. He had read in one of the books in the Potter library that, to make a portrait, the person being painted imbeds a small part of their magic so that the wizard or witch leaves a small part of their personality in the painting with the help of enchantments. *

So the fact that this locket has an even stronger aura than the portraits, but weaker than a person's, leaves Harry to think that it wasn't the same enchantments the person used as in the paintings. So Harry grew curious. Extremely so.

A yawn broke him from his musings, and Harry was reminded of how tired he actually was. He looked out of the window, and saw that the sun had gone under some time ago. It was dark out, the moon already up in the sky with a few stars here and there.

He looked back at the locket wistfully, feeling the magic tug on his own, before placing it back on the bedside table. It was high time for some shut-eye.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

The next morning found Harry getting ready for his classes. It was Monday, the 18th of June and Summer hols were getting closer, as was his birthday. Soon Harry will be ten and then he will have only one more year to prepare and get everything done before he will have to go to magical school.

Harry had done some research a week or two back, as he was curious about the magical school. Apparently Hogwarts wasn't the only school in the UK. There were various other schools spread out, but they were not as exclusive as Hogwarts or the two other prestigious schools in Europe. You could only get in if you received an invitation. The other schools aren't selective of its students, but they also didn't have such an extensive education elective. They only taught the basics, whilst Hogwarts went far beyond that.

There was no doubt that Harry would receive his invitation. He is, after all, _The_ famed Boy Who Lived.

He ran a hand through his still damp hair, various locks sticking up, and gave his hair a moody glance in the mirror. _Why_ did his hair have to look like a rat was nesting in it _all the freaking time?!_ Seriously. No matter _what_ he did with it, it just wouldn't be tamed. Something which his aunt had been irritated about most of the time. At least he got something out of it, he thought. He remembered the one time his aunt had finally snapped and grabbed an electric razor. She had proceeded to shave all his hair off. He remembered feeling mortified, as Dudley was laughing at him from his place on the couch. As he went to bed that night, he had silently cried, curling up on his thin matrass and had pulled his small blanket tightly around him, falling in a fitful sleep.

The next morning after that incident, his aunt had screamed at him. Apparently his hair had grown back to his full length over the night. Harry had been elated, his aunt not so much.

Luckily Vernon hadn't been there when that had happened, or he would have been punished more than he had already been.

Harry shook his head, small droplets of water flying against the mirror as he did so. He was thinking a lot about the Dursleys lately. He didn't like it one bit.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he proceeded back towards his room and quickly got dressed. He slung the shoulder bag containing his papers and books over his shoulder and was about to exit when a glint caught his eye. Harry looked at the locket laying innocently on his bedside table and weighed the consequences of carrying it around with him before giving a shrug and pulling the chain over his head.

The locket seemed to hum once it was nestled against his chest, and Harry felt a chill go down his spine. It wasn't unpleasant per se, but it did catch him by surprise.

Harry looked down at it, tilting his head in curiosity as he felt the magic tugging on his own. Luckily he had enough control on his magic not to let the locket do whatever it wants to do and picked it up in his hand before proceeding to hide it under his shirt. Whoever had hidden the locket obviously hadn't wanted anyone to find it. And Harry wasn't willing to take the chance that it will be taken away before he can find out what it is exactly and what its purpose is.

He was very curious after all.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

 ***I know the portraits aren't** _ **exactly**_ **made this way, but to fit the story I just made it like this.**

 **Poor Emerald! I feel so bad for killing him off in the same chapter he appears in. Am I a bad person now?**

 **Anyways! Leave some love by pressing the button down below! Come on, don't be shy. I won't bite! Much… (ʃ** **ƪ** **¬‿¬)**


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 guys, and there's a major time skip ahead! Just so you guys are warned.**

Leave a review! It's always nice for a writer to read about what you think about their story.  
Don't be afraid to leave any constructive criticism or what you expect to happen in the future chapters. It can help a writer to get motivated to write, or give them inspiration. So don't worry, I won't bite. XD

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 **Davycrockett100, trainreader, Miyu Kokomi, Fae0306, Autumngold (guest), Of Stories Told, Dariahn, Shetan20, Yana5, marbe101, aliengirlguy (guest), jgood27, wetsakura, Gothazon, konatachan603, G. Potter93 and chasingskeleton:** Thank you guys for all leaving such lovely reviews! You guys ROCK!

 **Q/A TIME**

 **Guest:** Good question! Well, I didn't really go in too much depth about his college classes (and wasn't really planning to) 'cause that would mean a shit load of work for me hahaha.

 **Kami no Kage-Sama:** Thank you! You're so _Kind!_ and to answer your question: Kukukuku…. I won't tell a thing Kukukukuku 'Cause that might spoil things for the future kukkuku… Feel free to speculate though!

 **Fairygirl34:** Sorry for breaking your heart Fairygirl34-chan! :'( And thank you! And to answer your question: Hmmm… most likely he will bring it with him yes, though I won't say anything more on the matter cause spoilers! XD

 **MirrorShard:** Welcome back! Glad nothing happened to you, pfew! Sorry for killing him off, I felt so bad for doing that. And that cucumber thing was a good idea, hmm…. XD Anyway, we're having a major time skip this chapter, and things are finally moving on. Soooon, sooooonnn…

 **trueimpa:** Sorry if I depressed you, please don't hate me! Death didn't stop after that event, but I can't really tell when or how they'll meet again. And yeah, I didn't want to make it any worse by letting Vernon smack a four-year-old around. That would be just plain cruel.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, and I never will. I only own this story, which is to say not much. I also don't own the cover image, I only edited it some.

 **Warnings:** Slash in later chapters! Major time skip! Plotting, politics, raising the dead, violence, character death, animal deaths, a bit of Dumbledore bashing (Maybe a lot), A little bit of Weasley bashing (Not sure though…), other character bashing (not sure who) Cussing and OC's

 **(Update: 03-05-2016) Beta:** This chapter has been beta-ed by my friend, the lovely Anki. Please give her a big thanks!

 **Previously:**

 _"A Ssspeaker,"_

~§~

 _"Do you have any mice?"_

~§~

"Go clean that up boy!"

~§~

"E-Emerald?"

~§~

"C'mon, this isn't funny anymore,"

~§~

"Wake up, wake up. _Get up!_ "

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

Chapter 7

"Sane is the insanity most call normality put forth by society." ~ Erik Till

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

"I presume that everything is set?"

There were some shuffling sounds in the otherwise silent room as the other occupant moved in his seat. "Everything is ready," he rumbled in a gruff voice, giving a sharp-toothed grin. "only thing left is for you to play your part until the trial. If that goes well, nothing will be able to stop us."

A soft hum was his only response, but it was all the Goblin needed. The chess pieces have been set, the players have taken their place (even if they're not aware of it yet.) Now all that's left is to wait for someone to make the first move and everything will slowly fall into place.

Green eyes shone with glee, a small grin blooming on a young face.

He couldn't wait.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

Emerald-green grass shone in the late afternoon sun, a small summer breeze gently blew a few leaves across the ground, making them dance around each other. Roses grew in small pots, lined on either side of the door. A stone birdbath stood on the left side of the front lawn, a single sparrow twittering inside it. Movement from inside the hedges separating that house from its neighbour caught Harry's gaze. It was a cat. A grey - very fat – downy cat. Its blue eyes were focused on the small bird; it's behind shaking from side to side in preparation of an attack. A leave crunched under Harry's foot as he took a small step forward.

A split second later the sparrow flew away, the cat springing after it as if it hadn't had a meal in weeks. (Which seriously couldn't be farther from the truth as far as Harry could tell. I mean, look at it! It was probably the chubbiest cat Harry had ever seen!) Its paws knocked into the bird, making it lose its balance and flounder around in the air for a second.

It was enough for the cat to make a second attempt at it and this time succeeding in capturing the flailing bird.

Harry watched the cat disappear between the bushes, head held high with the sparrow clutched between its jaws. _Well_ , he blinked slowly, bringing his thoughts back to what he was supposed to be doing. _That just happened…_

Harry stood before his destination, a scowl slowly forming on his face. _Come on Harry, you know you have to go there._ His encouraging thoughts didn't really help him in finding the will to step up to the all too familiar wooden door. He didn't want to be here, not now- not ever. He _really_ didn't want to be here. Harry breathed harshly through his nose. He didn't have much of a choice and he knew it.

Moving his shoulder bag to a more comfortable position, Harry slowly walked up the stone path, glancing for only a second at the car parked in front of the garage attached to the house. That could mean one thing only, and it soured Harry's mood even further than it already was.

Harry knocked softly on the door, taking the time until someone opened the door to steel his emotions and plaster on an obviously fake, but still polite smile. The sound of footsteps made Harry straighten his spine. _No turning back now_ , the door was opened, a familiar and unwanted voice greeting him.

"Yes, how may I- _Oh_ … it's you." Petunia eyed up her nephew with badly hidden contempt. Harry could easily say that the feeling was mutual. "I thought you'd left for good."

Harry's smile widened a bit, feeling his mouth muscles strain with the effort it took to pull it off. "Great to see you too, _Aunt Petunia_." Her mouth was pressed so hard together it looked as if she didn't have any lips left (not that she had much to begin with, mind.)

"Well, come inside then boy. Wouldn't want the neighbours to see you out on our front porch too long." Ahh, same old Petunia. Ever obsessed with appearing 'normal'. Harry really hadn't missed this. Not. At. All.

Harry stepped passed her, placing his shoulder bag on the floor by his feet and taking off his jacket. Petunia gave a little sniff before walking through the hall into the living room. Harry picked up his bag again and followed her at a leisure pace. He glanced around in mild curiosity. Apparently in the year and a half he hadn't been here not much had changed. The same boring furniture with the same boring walls and floor. The only new things to the surroundings would be the addition of various family pictures hanging on the walls or pictures of Dudley standing on the cabinets.

"Petunia, dear? Who was that at the door? If it was those God awful- What is _He_ doing here!?"

"Missed you too _Uncle_ ,"

" _Harry?!"_ Said boy glanced at the third and last occupant sitting in front of the TV.

"Cousin." He hadn't changed much, just gained a few more pounds as far as Harry could tell.

It was silent for a few moments, the sound of talking and fighting coming from the TV which was turned on on some sort of action movie. Vernon was slowly turning red in the face as the silence dragged on, Harry cocked his head to the side in curiosity. He'd almost forgotten how many colours the mans face could turn into.

"I won't let a _Freak_ like you into my house again!" Vernon snapped, standing up from his place in his armchair. Harry gave him an unimpressed look, holding it until Vernon finally sat back down again. _Good_ , he thought. It appears that they hadn't forgotten.

"Believe me, _Uncle,_ " Harry started, walking to the only other available armchair and gracefully sat down in it. "If I had a choice in the matter, I wouldn't even be within fifty miles of this place." A disgusted look flitted over his face before he dragged a hand through his messy black hair and had it under control again. He gave them a small smile. "Alas, I'm still underage and you are still my current… _guardians_." He shrugged his shoulders, shuffling back a little and crossing his right leg over the other to sit a bit more comfortably in the chair. "So we'll have to… _get on_ with each other. If only for a short while."

"Where were you last summer then?" A wave of irritation washed over him before he could suppress it again. Leave it to his Aunt to ask the annoying questions. Luckily, he had already anticipated it all.

"I stayed at a friend's place." Dudley snorted from his place on the couch, but chose to stay quiet. A surprisingly smart choice on his part.

Petunia eyed him suspiciously, apparently hard-pressed to believe he had any friends to talk about, much less stay at their place. Not that she was _wrong_ or anything, but she didn't need to know that. He looked her in the eyes, before she finally glanced away with a flinch. His eyes weren't _normal_ , and she knew that all too well.

Harry's lips twitched before he steeled his expression again. "Well, since that's been taken care of…" he stood up, taking his bag with him. "I sure hope that my room is still available and that my stuff is as I had left it. For your sakes of course…" He gave his aunt and uncle a warning look, relishing in the flinch it caused them to make. They're lucky that he hadn't had anything of value left here.

He left them all in the living room, let them alone to stew on their thoughts for now. They wouldn't be able to do a thing to him anyway.

He walked past his old room, the all too familiar door of the cupboard under the stairs bringing back memories long gone. He trailed his hand over it, before taking hold of the door knob and turning it. The small bed had been removed, cleaning utensils taking its place. The only thing still left of his time in there were the words 'Harry's Room' scratched in the wall above where the bed used to be. "Heh," Harry shook his head, dispelling any and all thoughts from his mind. He closed the door before walking up the stairs to the smallest second bedroom he had been given after the 'Incident'. He didn't look back at his old room, he wasn't the small, scrawny little boy anymore, after all.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

It's been three weeks since Harry came back to live with the Dursleys. It's been three _very_ long weeks. And today would be an even more tiring day than it usually is. What makes today so different from the rest, you may ask? Well, for the sole reason that today is the 23th of June. Today is Dudley's 11th birthday. Oh, the joy.

As it's his birthday, they'll be going to the zoo. You'd think that he wouldn't mind much, as he probably would be able to stay at Privet Drive, reading the day away. Sadly, Petunia didn't trust him on his own at the house, Merlin knew why. So here Harry was, dragged noncommittally along with his cousin and his friend Piers Polkiss on the way to the zoo in the back of the car.

Oh Woe Is Me! To have to put up with these awful, awful people!

He really has to distract himself with something, or else he might start spouting poems at random.

Luckily, for Harry's sanity- and everyone else's- they arrived at the zoo. Dudley and Piers were already whining about ice-cream, and Vernon being the indulgent father that he is quickly bought them some.

It was fairly boring, but Harry amused himself by comparing the animals to his 'family'. One Gorilla reminded him especially of Dudley. They eventually reached the Reptile House, where Dudley was going from glass cage to glass cage, tapping on the glass to make the animals do something interesting. Harry was walking slowly after them, stopping once he reached a cage holding a big boa constrictor.

Harry felt commiseration for the animal, and could relate to it on some level. After all, he had been locked away for part of his life, and this snake was apparently raised within these four walls.

 _"Hello,"_ The snake raised its head, flicking its forked tongue in and out of its mouth. Harry gave it a small smile, he had more with animals than he had with people. But that's nothing new. Apparently, Piers had seen it move and was yelling to Dudley to take a look at the giant snake.

Dudley, in his excitement, pushed Harry out of the way to press his face against the glass, his warm breath misting it over.

Harry frowned, he had caught himself in time from stumbling to the ground, but apparently Dudley had forgotten who he had just pushed away. His lips twitched up at the corners before he looked back at the glass. Maybe Dudley needed to… cool off a little bit.

Before anyone knew what was happening, the glass windows separating the cages all disappeared. Dudley stumbled forward, falling into the small water basin at the base of the cage and was left spluttering and flailing around. Meanwhile all the animals in the reptile house were let on the loose, the ensuing chaos the result. People were running towards the exits, stumbling over one another. One guy almost lost a leg because an alligator snapped at his legs and a few of the poisonous frogs were causing quite a lot of panic. Oops.

The boa constrictor and a few other snakes were heading his way, snapping at a few stragglers feet. Dudley was still in the cage, shivering from fear. Harry wouldn't be surprised if he'd done it in his pants. Piers had long since fled for the entrance, leaving his best friend to fend for himself. Oh! How the colours of humanity shine through in such beautiful ways! Acting like the _beasts_ they all were.

The small gathering of snakes stopped in front of him, before the biggest (which would be the boa) raised itself up and spoke for the rest of them.

 _"Thanksss,"_

Harry gave a small grin, _"It was my pleasure."_

The snakes all nodded their heads before taking off towards the exit. Harry hoped they wouldn't get caught. It would be such a shame, he really liked them…

"Well," He said to Dudley, who was staring wide-eyed at him. It made him look like a Tarsier* in Harry's opinion. "That was fun!"

Dudley promptly fainted.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

 _The heat was everywhere._

Fire was licking at his hands and feat, leaving burns and pain in their trail.

He wanted to scream, but as he took a breath of air, smoke filled his lungs that left him coughing. He couldn't see a thing, thick smoke filling his vision and left his eyes stinging and burning.

 _He needed fresh air._

He stumbled forward, soon tripping over something he couldn't see. He hit his head on something hard as he hit the ground, leaving a sharp pain in its wake and causing him to feel even dizzier than he already was. Fire was already taking a hold of him, leaving painful burns all over his body. He could almost feel his blood boil beneath his melting flesh.

The last thing he saw before sweet, blissful unconsciousness overtook him was a faint outline in the dark and a whisper, the sound of a million voices in one but still oh so soft, **_"Soon, my child. Soon."_**

And he knew no more.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

Harry woke with a start, taking in a harsh breath of air before letting it out in a slow exhale. He did this a few more times, feeling his heart-rate slowing down with the meditational exercise. He'd been meditating since he found a book on occlumency, a way of keeping intruders out of his mind and helping with organizing one's thoughts. He's still at the beginning stages, meditating and clearing one's mind. He couldn't really do much else without a proper tutor. That was something he'd found out pretty quick. But until he found someone competent and willing enough, this will have to do. And it's not like it didn't help, his thoughts were much less jumbled than they had previously been.

Wiping cold sweat from his brow, Harry set himself to the task of disentangling himself from his sheets. He'd been kicking around in his sleep again.

Harry had been wandering about his dreams (nightmares, whichever you want to call them.) They started from the first night he arrived back in the Wizarding world, and always had the same recurring theme.

He died in every one of them.

Granted it was always a new way of dying, it's surprising, the amount of ways one could die. Some were fairly peaceful, but others (like this one) were quite painful and had him tossing and turning in his bed.

There was also always the shadow appearing the moment he died. Always the same, silent shadow. And Harry had the strange notion that he knew it.

It's odd though, this was the first time it actually spoke to him. He wondered what that would mean for him, and what the thing had meant with 'soon'? Will he meet it soon? Will something happen soon? Will he die soon? He hoped not, he'd just begun with getting his new life back on track. He rather not have all the shit he'd done this past year been all for naught, thank-you-very-much.

He sighed as he sat up, looking at the old clock hanging on the wall by the door. It was early morning, the Dursleys wouldn't be up yet for another hour or two. Harry set about preparing himself for the day, and once he got downstairs he took an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter before going out for a jog around the neighbourhood.

It's been three weeks since the zoo incident, and the Dursleys were even more wary of him than before. Which suited Harry just fine, as it meant more time to himself.

A little less than an hour later he was done jogging and washing the sweat he had worked up from his body. He quickly dried himself, as Petunia would wake any minute now and threw on a simple pair of trousers and a short-sleeved shirt. He was already downstairs; reading, by the time that he heard Petunia from upstairs.

He was somewhere along chapter 34 of his Ancient runes tome (this one was the least magical and the Dursleys wouldn't know what it is about) by the time everyone was downstairs and setting up breakfast.

He shut his book with a loud snap, and placed it gingerly on the coffee table. Dudley had learned by now not to touch his books or any of his stuff, as it would result in a stinging hex coming from the book. It had taken some time for his cousin to learn though, and Harry had relished in the fact that he had been able hear his cousins yelp from across the house.

Harry took his usual seat at the table, across from Dudley, and helped himself to some food. He wasn't a very big fan to anything fat (like bacon) for any of his meals (courtesy to the Dursleys.)

Breakfast was a quiet affair; no one was talking much. Only Vernon making random comments about the news in the papers. It wasn't until the sound of the mail arriving that the serene (if one could call it that) atmosphere was breached.

"I'll get it,"

Harry stood up from his chair, not waiting for any confirmation that they had heard and slowly walked towards the front door.

He picked the stack of letters up and leafed through them. Walking back into the kitchen he handed Vernon his bills and card from 'Aunt' Marge and sat back down again.

He had a few letters himself, most from universities like Cambridge, Oxford and even Harvard in the Americas, asking him to consider their schools. He'd been receiving these letters for a while now, but hadn't answered any of them. Of course he had been noticed by the big Universities, he'd probably been on their radar for a while now. As a child genius, who had received various college degrees at the age of ten, that was to be expected. He hadn't expected to be noticed by schools from America though…

He came to the last letter when his eyebrows shot up in his hairline. "Huh," apparently his Hogwarts letter had arrived, which he had anticipated of course. He was about to break the seal at the back of his letter when it was unceremoniously ripped from his hands.

He stared open-mouthed at his uncle for a few long moments before annoyance took over his surprise.

" _What_ are you doing?"

Vernon had apparently grown a pair of balls overnight as he didn't seem to falter under Harry's glare. Or the few brain cells the man had left had died a painful death overnight. Either way, the man was pissing him off.

"I won't stand for this! I won't! I won't let you go to that Freak school!" He proceeded to rip the letter in half a couple of times before shredding it in the blender for good measure. There was silence around the kitchen, Dudley had his fork halfway to his mouth, staring wide-eyed at his father as if the man had gone bonkers. Petunia was sitting rigidly at the table, gripping her tea-cup maybe a little too hard if the white knuckles were any indication.

Harry just sat with his eyebrows raised, blinking slowly at his uncle before shaking his head and taking a sip of his orange juice.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

It's been one hell of a week.

In between reading, exercising and trying to keep his homicidal tendencies in check (lest he murder his only living family a little too early on in the story) the letters which came everyday since that Monday morning were getting more and more ridiculous.

Harry wasn't even trying to get a letter anymore, too amused by his uncles rising frustration and downward spiral into madness. Really, the moment his aunt found letters inside the eggs, and the look his uncle and aunt had been sporting, had been Harry's breaking point. He could still feel the cramps in his belly from laughing so hard as tears had sprung from his eyes.

He'd never laughed so hard in his life.

And now it's Sunday morning, the 28th of July, and Harry would be eleven in just a few days.

His uncle was sat at the breakfast table looking worn and rather ill, but very happy nonetheless. It was an odd sight to see Vernon like that, it reminded Harry of someone from the loony bin.

"No post on Sundays," He told them happily, smearing butter on his bacon. Petunia looked as if someone had besmirched her favourite set of porcelain cups, while Dudley was simply stuffing his face.

Vernon opened his mouth to presumably say something non-sensible but was interrupted when something came whizzing out the chimney. It hit his uncle sharply on the back of his head and his face was planted in a conveniently placed bowl of porridge. Vernon slowly raised his head, porridge dripping down his quivering moustache. Oh man, this definitely made it up for the rest of the week, Harry thought. Or maybe even the entire time he had to stay at the Dursleys, as he watched Vernon slip over the porridge he was dripping on the floor.

Letters came pelting out the fireplace like bullets and everyone was ducking for their lives. Some glasses and picture frames were broken during the chaos. They eventually all ran into the hallway to evade the onslaught of letters. Vernon was heaving, already purple in the face. "That does it, we're going away. Just pack what you need. No arguments!" Vernon shouted when Dudley opened his mouth to protest.

Vernon stamped up the stairs, disappearing around a corner. The three of them stared after the man for a while before Dudley looked at his mother and asked in a dull voice, "Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Petunia didn't answer him.

Harry just simply laughed.

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

So here they are, two days later on Tuesday, all stuck in a shack in the middle of fucking _nowhere_.

Thank you Vernon, for this wonderful outing.

He wanted to deck someone in the fucking face… Preferably his uncle.

It's cold, it smells like seaweed and a storm was raging around them. Vernon and Petunia were asleep on a lumpy bed situated in the room next to this one and Dudley was laying on the sofa. Leaving Harry with, you guessed right, nothing but an old smelly blanket.

Luckily he had brought his shoulder bag with him. Checking to see if Dudley was really asleep, Harry dragged his bag closer to him and started to rummage through it. His arm started to disappear inside it when he finally caught it.

"Hah!" He quickly silenced himself when he heard Dudley moving on the couch. A groan and a snore later Harry slowly exhaled the breath he had been holding.

Pulling out the warm blanket from inside his magical bag, Harry almost cocooned himself inside it. He sighed in relief, burying further into the warmth of his blanket which was almost like a small heater. Man, he loved Magic.

Harry was dozing off, lulled to sleep by the warmth of his blanket and sounds of the raging sea hitting the rocks down below, when he was jostled awake by a loud noise- the sound of a battering ram hitting the door.

There was another knock- as it was apparently someone knocking on the door. Dudley jerked awake, yelling something non-sensible before reality settled in as he looked around himself, "Wha-?" Vernon came crashing inside the room, holding a long rifle in his hands.

Harry felt his eyebrows hit his hairline, but stayed huddled inside his blanket on the floor. He's staying out of it for now, curious to see how this would proceed. Though Vernon seemed a bit too trigger-happy at the moment for Harry's liking, with all the twitching the man was doing and all.

"Vernon-! What's going on?" Petunia asked as she walked into the room clad in a nightgown. Harry scrunched his nose, that was a sight he could definitely live without.

Suddenly the door was smashed off its hinges, and landed with a deafening crash on the floor. Dust rose up in thick clouds, a giant of a man squeezing through the doorway.

Petunia screeched, Dudley squeaked and Vernon made a sort of mix between a grunt and a yelp.

Harry just blinked.

 _Well, this is new._

~§~FiliusMortis~§~

 ***A Tarsier is a small (about squirrel sized) nocturnal primate with huge (and I mean HUGE) eyes. You should definitely look it up.**

 **Oh Boy-! We're almost going to Hogwarts guys! And sorry for zero interaction of the locket this chapter, but don't worry it will come.**

 **Anyways! Leave some love by pressing the button down below! Come on, don't be shy. I won't bite! Much…** **(ʃ** **ƪ** **¬‿¬)**


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